Marked for Death
by Deslock
Summary: RED and BLU have disbanded and the mercenaries that once worked for them have returned to their mundane, civilian lives - until the death of one of their former team mates sparks a chaotic chain of events that forces them back together and throws their lives into pandemonium once more.
1. Prologue

Prologue

. . .

_Bee Cave, Texas, 1978_

The ringing came before the tingling – as it always did.

The evening sun beat down upon his aching back through the one tiny window of his garage. The ever aging Texan rolled his shoulder blades and groaned at the dragged out _crack_ that followed, he'd spent so many years hunched over his tools and plans like this that he was genuinely surprised that his back hadn't just given out completely. Then again, there was still time for that. This ringing in his ears was a more recent ailment that begun to plague him and it was almost always followed by an unpleasant but not entirely painful sensation that ran up his right arm and skittered down his spine, like a spider whose legs were replaced with needles. Maybe he was just getting too old for this? After all, he'd been an engineer for over thirty years.

The Reliable Excavation and Demolition company that he had once worked for, and their rivals the Builders League United, had both disbanded in June of '73, exactly five years after first hiring their respective mercenary groups – or the REDs and BLUS as they were known then. The Engineer himself hadn't seen any of his old teammates, or old enemies for that matter, since that last day.

And so here he was; turning fifty in just a couple of years and he'd already made enough money to set himself up for life. Surely this was a good thing. Surely?

Heaving a heavy sigh and removing his hardhat, the Engineer wiped the grease from his sweaty forehead with a rag and sat stooped like a much older man. Truth be told, sometimes he missed those days. They had been long and hard – and very, very dangerous – but the good ol' boy had never felt more _alive_. It was times like this when he found himself wondering if his old team had ever looked back on those days with the same fond nostalgia as he did now.

Swigging from a nearly finished, sun-warmed beer the stocky man pushed his goggles up onto his shaven head and stared at the scribbled plans before him with a blank expression, occasionally giving the odd coffee ring a disapproving glower. Microwaves. He'd gone from building the most technologically advanced and deadly weapons of modern war that could mow down hoards of soldiers and robots – to building a new microwave for ol' lady Langden down in the market place. He heaved another defeated sigh. Well, at least he'd get some of her freshly baked cornbread for this.

Hauling himself up from his work bench with more effort than a man of forty-eight should have required, he placed his helmet and goggles on top of the messy blueprints before finishing his beer and heading outside to feel the breeze on his face. He really needed to clear his head before his thoughts ran away with his senses. Damn his arm was giving him bother today.

"Well would'ya look at _that_, the ol' recluse emerges." A pair of arms wrapped around the Engineers waist, which itself was getting a little bigger by the day due to his lack of exercise (though he was hesitant to admit that) A kiss was gently planted onto his stubbly cheek, leaving behind a cherry lipstick smudge.

"Sorry darlin." He turned his head to return his wives peck. "Jus' been rustlin' up that microwave for Mrs Landgen."

"The poor ol' dear hasn't been the same since Harry left …." Creases spread across his wives forehead in concern. Arleen was always worrying about others before herself; it was a quality that her husband found very endearing. The Engineer rotated to wrap his wife in an embrace, smelling her hair as if it where his life source and smiling when his nose detected her Hawaiian coconut shampoo. That was her favourite scent. Arleen was a short, dumpy woman a few years younger than her husband and she was sweeter than candy with a heart made of honey – The Engineer had fallen for her the very day they'd met.

RED had just disbanded and he'd returned to his tiny hometown for the first time in years. Arleen was working as a waitress in a bar over by the old bakery that he'd been fond of as a young boy, which was sadly no longer in business. Theirs wasn't a Hollywood romance by any means. They were both in their forties and the Engineer was a little worse for wear as a result from his days as a mercenary, Arleen herself was slightly over-weight and over-worked but by the end of her shift, she was convinced that this soft-spoken man who'd toddled back into town was her soul-mate. That night she invited him back to her small, musky apartment and they'd made love like a pair of randy teenagers – the Engineer had barely noticed how much he'd missed the fairer sex during his employment with RED until that night. And _boy_ had he missed it.

They were married and living together within the year, and neither of them had ever been happier. These thoughts went through the Engineers mind as his wife pulled back from his hug and looked up at him, her hazel eyes framed with the signs of age.

"Ah know how you don't like t'be disturbed while you're workin' hon, but there's a young man on the phone who insists he needs to talk to ya."

"Oh?"

"Sounds awful urgent." She took him by the hand and gently led him into the house as he hummed and rubbed his stubbly chin, muttering under his breath about being tired of people wanting help with _this_ and needing advice with _that_. He was retired dammnit. Inside their humble farmhouse, the engineer strolled over to the small, cream coloured phone and lifted it to his ear as his wife stood leaning against the door frame with a concerned expression, wringing her hands in her stained apron.

"Hello? .… your talkin' to him …. uh huh …. oh …. I see .… tomorrow? Yeah .… yeah that's fine .… alright, thank you kindly…"

Slowly, he placed the phone back down and stared at it quietly for a few moments until his wife appeared at his side, a warm hand clasping his shoulder delicately. She could sense his disturbance without even seeing his face.

"Everythin' alright?"

"Yeah." Though he shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. "Well, one of the boys I used to work with has died."

"Oh, hon …" she squeezed his shoulder tightly, bringing up her other hand to pat his back affectionately.

"S'alright I just-" he paused, thinking. "I need to make a few phone calls."

. . .


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

. . .

_Canberra, Australia, 1978_

If there was one lesson that moving down to his countries capital had taught him, it was that his ability to tolerate other people was just not going to improve. The Sniper had moved to Canberra just over four years ago, a little after RED had disbanded and left him without work. Not that he needed more work, he was rolling in money because of the years he'd spent fighting BLU, but he'd given more than half of his earnings to his parents. He wondered what they even done with all that money, as they never seemed to have anything _new_ and still lived in the same dumpy little farmhouse they'd dragged him up in. He didn't care; they hadn't disowned him completely as he was expecting them to do, so maybe he'd managed to buy their affections, kinda. While his father still remained a miserable old miser, Snipers mother had wept tears of joy when he'd told her that he'd "quit" RED to "pursue better things". She still thinks he's a wallaby groomer.

Reality was, he'd done diddly-squat for the past five years except for the odd extended road trip. He'd got rid of his trusty old camper van and bought a new, shiny one. Truthfully, he knew it'd been a mistake the minute he traded the keys in, but … well, he was always getting grief about his old camper. She had a good long run "out with the old and in with the new" as they say. As he polished his beloved rifle, the Sniper silently apologised to her for not using her in so long. '_Sorry old girl'_ he'd thought as he watched her barrel shine as if she were new once again. It felt like it had been decades since he'd been able to do some good old fashioned snipin' work. He trembled with excitement at the thought of another job, recalling the euphoric _boom_ of each and every headshot, the satisfaction of every kill shaking him to the core. Maybe his old man was right; maybe he _was_ a bloody crazed gunman.

Brrriiiiiinnng!

"Auh, piss." He almost jumped at the sudden screech of the telephone that pulled him from his contemplation. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, 6:30pm, so his mother wasn't due to call him for another hour and a half, and she _never_ called early.

Brrriiiiiiinnngg!

The really immature part of him wanted to ignore it and just pretend he wasn't home _(like he'd have anywhere else to bloody be)_ why couldn't people get the hint – he didn't _like_ them. Then again, if it was his mother calling early then something might have happened. Something _bad_. Setting down his rifle, Sniper answered the phone with an unenthusiastic mumble and only a slight hint of concern.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hi. This Mr Mundy?"

"Uh huh."

"Hi, uh, I'm - well, I suppose y'all know me best as the Engineer." The Snipers eyes shot wide.

"… _Engie_?"

"S'right stretch. How, uh, how you been pardner?" he sounded nervous. The Engineer didn't get nervous.

"Oh I've, um, been fine thanks. Yeah, been good. S'been a long time mate … what's goin' on?"

"There's been an accident."

"Oh?"

"Pyro's dead."

"…oh." They were both silent for a moment before the Texans soft drawl continued down the line.

"Memorials on Monday. Would be swell if y'all could make it down under, just us ol' REDs. Pyro didn't … y'know _have_ anyone else." For a long moment Sniper didn't say anything. "Course … if y'all are too busy then-"

"No, no," Sniper interjected, finding his voice. "Course not, I'll be there mate. Just gimme the details."

After jotting down when and where the service was going to be the Sniper gave a brief goodbye to his old friend before hanging up. Engie and Sniper had always been on good terms, so the awkwardness of the whole phone call annoyed him a little. Then again Engie had been close to the Pyro, the closest on the team anyway, so his mind was probably elsewhere. Sniper himself hadn't known the Pyro very well despite having worked with him for five years. In fact nobody other than Engie really spoke to the masked man at all, if anything Pyro just intimidated them all. Even the lumbering hulk that was the REDs Heavy was a little scared of him. Nobody knew what the Pyro even looked like under that mask he _always_ wore and they could hardly understand what he was mumbling on about due to it. Still, he was a RED and had fought alongside them and saved their hides from many a BLU spy on countless occasions. They owned him as much as attending his bloody memorial. Sniper poured himself a cup of strong coffee and leaned over his sink to stare out at the red sky.

"Ah, piss." He cursed under his breath as he realised that this meant he'd need to buy a suit.

. . .

The Engineer packed his suitcase as Arleen made his favourite dinner downstairs – Bacon and eggs of course - though he didn't have much of an appetite. He hadn't been to a funeral in almost twenty years, not since way back when he'd worked in the West Texas oilfields and his boss's wife had died. On the whole he'd been lucky, aside from his old man he'd never lost anyone else close to him as he'd never known his mother and was an only child. Technically speaking what they were having for Pyro wasn't a funeral per se, as there was no body to bury – apparently he'd been burnt to ash in the accident. The Engineer grit his teeth at the thought.

"I could come with you, you know." Arleen's soft voice pulled him back into reality as she appeared at the bedroom door.

"No, no." he hugged her gratefully. "As much as I hate to leave you alone, I'd rather have you here and safe, than with me and in harm's way."

"It's a _memorial_, not a war you're going to. What trouble can there be?" _oh_ _If only she knew._

"Heh, well trouble always managed to find its way to the boys in some shape or form. I have the utmost respect for them an all but, well … your safety is a risk I refuse to toy with darlin" He kissed her and she smiled, though somewhat sadly. She'd promised him that she'd never ask about what his job with RED had _actually_ entailed, as he'd sworn he'd never tell her. But sometimes late at night while they lay together, she ran her fingers over the multitude of scars and burns that plastered his body and she felt a sting in her heart. What the hell had happened to her husband? The worst was his arm …

"I love you so much." He squeezed her protectively.

"I love you too." She squeezed back tightly, as her eyes began to water.

. . .

The next day at the airport Arleen had clung to him and peppered him with kisses, leaving his face looking very similar to a pepperoni pizza with all the lipstick marks she'd left. Would he call her every day? Of course dear. Would he eat alright? Of course dear. Did he pack his tooth brush? Of course dear.

It pained him to do it but he was eventually able to pry his beloved Arleen from him and board the plane, finding himself on his way to meet a team of hired killers he'd not had the pleasure of working with for over five years. It was only then that he realised his friend Pyro wasn't going to be among them. He was dead.

"Oh boy…" he sighed and leaned back in his chair as the plane rumbled to life and took off. The chatter of the other passengers died down as the planes massive engines roared beneath them.

The last time he'd seen Pyro was on that last day, they'd shaken hands and shared the usual pleasantries "was a pleasure workin' with you buddy" and "Don't be a stranger if y'all' are ever in town, pardner". Deep inside, all nine men suspected that they would probably never see each other again, but they'd never considered that out in the real world, they could actually _die_. No respawining in the infirmary and no more quick fixes courtesy of the Medic. Pyro was dead, and he wasn't coming back.

The rest of the plane journey was completely silent to the Engineer despite the noise that surrounded him.

Perhaps it was because his mind was on other things, but before he knew it, the Engineer was sitting on a dumpy bed in a worn out hotel room in the middle of nowhere with his luggage discarded at his feet. Tomorrow was Sunday and the rest of his former team would be arriving at the hotel for the memorial on Monday, but before that the Engineer wanted to pay the police who'd found what was left of his old fire-loving friend a visit. He set his alarm for 6:30am though he woke up fifteen minutes earlier. The absence of Arleen caused his sleep to be more disturbed, not least because the mattress felt like it was made from solid rock. _'Sleep well, sir' my ass._

He was able to rent an old van from a nearby garage for very little money, well, little money to a man who was currently loaded with the stuff and so off he went to the next town to see the boys in blue, grinning bitterly at that thought.

Upon arrival at the station the Engineer introduced himself with his real name and spoke to the officer that had called him up the other day about the fire. Apparently Pyro had come home drunk one night and began to cook, only to fall asleep. By the time the fire brigade had got there, the whole house was engulfed. He'd left a short will; the sole instructions held in it were that if he were to die, they were to inform the Engineer. Nothing was left behind and no other names were mentioned. Just a name and a phone number – his good ol' friend Engie.

After the officer who'd first seen him was called away to deal with something more important than this Texan stranger, a younger officer was sent to deal with him and his questions.

"The doctor said your, uh, friend died from smoke inhalation during the accident. My condolences for your loss sir, but as my colleague explained, there was barely a body there to give you for burial."

"I understand, son. Any chance y'all could give me the address?"

"Sure thing, I'll just get it for you."

As the officer went about retrieving what he needed, the Engineer frowned and scoped around the office with narrow eyes. It just wasn't right. When the young officer returned, he had a box in his hands.

"Listen, because your friend didn't leave anything behind we were told just to destroy what we brought in for evidence once we found no indication of foul play. But, well, you've flown all the way up here sir, so … here." The Engineer took the box, bobbing it in his hands to gauge the peculiar weight and raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "It's not much but, it was the only thing left intact."

Back in the dumpy van, Engie placed the scrap of paper with Pyros address into his pocket and opened the box, pulling out the contents to hold up before his face. He snorted, though It brought a sad sort of smile to his face. The Pyros old gas mask - its eyes still as dark and lifeless as always, and it was in pretty bad condition compared to how much care the Pyro had once treated it with. The Texan was surprised at just how light it was. It was almost as if he was staring his old friend in the face once again.

"Don't worry little buddy," whispered the Engineer "I'll find out what happened to ya."

_. . ._

"Hey truckie."

Rubbing his sleepy eyes as he left his hotel room on Monday morning, the Engineer already knew who had approached him before he'd turned around due to that distinctive, gruff voice. "S'good to see ya again ol' friend."

"That it is," Sniper shook his friends hand and patted him on the shoulder in a gesture of condolence. "puttin' on the beef though, ain't ya?" Quick to break the ice, the Australian hadn't changed much. At his remark the Texan laughed deeply and rubbed his own belly.

"Better to have more than less, stretch." They shared menial banter for a few minutes until a cab pulled up and two men got out of the back. One was instantly recognisable as the Soldier – crazy bastard still wore his helmet. Despite being in his mid-fifties by now he really hadn't changed at all, and he gave them both a firm salute in a characteristic greeting which they both returned with a smile. Everyone knew soldier was mad, but he'd been a presence that they were truly grateful for back in the day because with his madness came a fearlessness that surpassed even Heavy's. Beside him though, was a young man who the Engineer almost didn't recognise. Then, like the Sniper, his tell-tale voice gave him away immediately.

"Yo, what's up? Coulda picked a nicer place for the service hardhat, lookat dis dump!"

"S'nice to see you too, string bean." The Scout had been but a teenager back when they'd first met in '68, but that was ten years ago. He was still a lean lad, but less _skinny_ now and his face was less youthful looking, hell the kid even had some stubble. If the Engineers calculations were correct – and they were very rarely wrong – Scout must be turning twenty-nine soon. He chuckled at the thought and gave the young man a hearty clap on the shoulder. The four of them stood quietly for a minute, trying to re-familiarise themselves with each other's presence.

"Another good man down." announced Soldier. "Where are we burying Smokey Joe?"

"Burials out of the question I'm afraid, apparently there's nothin' _to_ bury. This is just a memorial." Soldier nodded, turned sharply on his heels and then marched towards the hotel room behind the Engineer, assuming that it was his and that he could make himself at home until sorting out his own room. Scout followed quickly behind.

"Hey man, it's freakin' freezin' out here, s'wait for the others inside."

Over the course of the evening the other former REDs began to arrive and unlike the Scout, the rest hadn't changed that much as far as appearances went. Demoman was drunk when he arrived, as was expected, and he and Soldier were the first to greet one another. Despite having been so close while they'd worked together for RED, they hadn't seen each other in the five years since being disbanded, so the pair chatted away excitedly about various events that had happened to them while nobody else dared to interrupt them. They were kinda hard to understand anyway.

The Medic arrived at roughly seven o'clock that night, sporting a smart jacket and a grim expression from his long travels from Germany. The good doctor had reached the ripe age of fifty, and his formerly jet black hair was now a silvery grey colour, though it was still styled neatly as he'd worn it five years ago. He greeted the Engineer warmly and was the first (and only) of the mercs that was able to recognise the Scout before the lad managed to open his mouth.

The last to arrive was Heavy, who'd flown in from Russia. His age was far more evident upon closer inspection and despite being a year younger than his German team mate, Heavy appeared much older than him with dark bags hanging under his eyes. He was still extremely muscular, but like the Engineer he'd also put on a little extra beef. It was surprisingly unnerving to see him without Sasha – his trusty mini-gun. He offered a big, friendly smile as he patted the Engineer on the back.

"Is good to see team again!"

"Sure is big guy. Looks like that's ever'one too."

"Hey hey, where's the Spy?" Scout inquired as he opened a can of boink (some old habits never die) his bright blue eyes flickered between the faces of the other men.

"fraid I didn't speak to him son, no way of contactin' him. It's like he jus' disappeared off the face of the planet but then, I'm sure that was his intent." The Engineer shrugged. "Y'all know him though, very private-like, sure Spah wouldn't have come even if I had called." It was a sad fact, but it was a true one at that.

That night the six newest arrivals booked their own hotel rooms and bid their former team mates goodnight. The memorial was tomorrow and the Engineer was sure it would be followed by a mad night of drinking and reminiscing about the old days, probably a fight or three too. Still, he tossed and turned as he thought about everything that had happened these past two days. As he lay there with his mind racing at a hundred miles per hour he suddenly heard a ringing in his ears. Sighing heavily, he sat up in his hard bed, rubbing his arm and rolling his shoulder back. As his arm and spine began to tingle uncomfortably, he conceded that he was getting no sleep tonight as he pulled a piece of paper out his side drawer and began to write.

. . .

_I'd just like to say a big thank you to everyone who has followed and reviewed so far, I honestly wasn't expecting such a positive response to my prologue, I'm more grateful to you all than I can even say. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that those that follow do not disappoint - Des_


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

. . .

As the Engineer stood before his former-team mates with a beer in one hand and a crinkled, sloppily scribbled down speech in the other, he cursed the heat of the sun as it baked him mercilessly through his smartest suit.

"Well boys," he began, nodding to them with a smile that didn't reflect in his eyes. "We've fought bravely together in the past, and we've died bravely together in the past. An' found in each other a friendship that only men who've done the crazy-ass things that we've done can find. We've seen death an' sufferin' together, and we've celebrated glory and victory together. And although it's been years since we last saw one another, I still reckon I trust all'a y'all with mah life. Well, _kinda_." That earned a few chuckles and nods of agreement. "I'm proud to stand here to be able to say these words to ya'll today. But, today we experience somethin' that we've never had to before. Our friend Pyro has died, and this time he ain't comin' back. We all met Pyro ten years ago, and we fought alongside him for a long time. Now I know I speak for all'a us when I say he saved mah hide more times than I care to count." A few men nodded, others bowed their heads. "I'm gonna miss him dearly." He lifted his beer in a toast which the other men joined him in. "To Pyro."

"To Pyro!" No tears were shed, but every man present felt a shifting in their chests when the Engineers words finally sunk in. _'he ain't comin back.'_

. . .

As they sat in the middle of the blazing desert surrounded by beaten up old cars and rental vans, the Engineer couldn't help but snort at just how out of place they all looked here in the dust and grim with their smart black suits and shiny dress shoes. They'd been downing warm beer like cold water since Engies eulogy to Pyro, but the Texan himself had been sitting quietly since finishing his first beer with a cup of coffee, just watching his teammates chatting away. That is until a shadow suddenly fell over him.

"Your age has certainly caught up vith you." The Engineer glanced up at the Medic who stood over him grinning, looking remarkably dapper in his funeral suit with his combed hair and round glasses. He looked like a _real_ doctor, ironically enough.

"Heh, says _you_ doc." He chuckled and motioned for the German to join him, which he did. They sat quietly for a time, until the rest of the mercenaries moved further away to watch the Soldier and Demoman lock in drunken fisticuffs. They were a sight to behold, rolling about the dust in their formal attire punching lumps into each other as the others cheered and drank. It must have been a long time since any of the boys had got to enjoy some good ol' fashioned violence, as back in the day when Soldier and Demoman began to brawl most of the team didn't even bother to look up from their food it was so common place back then. The brilliant flash of fresh red blood now on pale sandy ground sure did bring back memories though. Medic shook his head derisively at his rowdy former-team, a fine line creasing his forehead.

"I don't miss healing zhose two idiots every day." His voice was soft and distant sounding when he spoke, and a few moments of silence followed.

"I don't like it." The Tex spoke quietly, almost a whisper.

"Vhat?"

"_This_. The whole thing." He scratched the stubble of his chin and muttered something under his breath. "Listen, I know that it don't make much sense to say it but … I just didn't think that Pyro was gonna go out _that_ way. I know that ever'one else thought that if he was gonna go out, then it'd be the way he _did_ … but," he sighed "Pyro didn't start fires by _accident_, Doc. _Never_. I just … I don't like it."

"No, he didn't." Medic agreed quietly, nodding.

"The boys at the station said that Pyro'd been drunk. Now I _know_ that ain't right because in all the years that we sat by mah ol' truck, with a fire goin' an' all, he _never_ took a drink. Not one_ damn _time."

"Hm. You vere clearly zhe closest to him," the Medic fumbled around in his jacket for something. "So you should have zhis." He handed the Engineer something small and slightly misshapen due to being exposed to extreme heat. Realisation dawning on him, Engie slowly raised his head to stare at the German apprehensively. It had once been shiny and metallic, with a sleek black tone rather than this solid blackness to it, but now it was horribly melted. Scared like a burn victim.

"This is .. Pyro's favorite lighter?" he spoke very slowly. "But … _how_?"

"From zhe body." Medic wore a hint of a smile but the Engineer gave him a dangerous scowl that demanded an explanation. "Fortunately for you, my curious friend, you vere not zhe only one who vas deeply suspicious regarding how zhe Pyro died. After you called me zhe other day, I took zhe liberty of arranging my flight a day earlier to visit zhe morgue Pyro vould have been held in. As it turns out, all you need is a vhite coat and a lot of chloroform and you can break into almost any hospital zhese days. Anyvay, zhere vas indeed a body - It's in a freezer in my van," Medic waved his hand nonchalantly as if that had been an afterthought "-but zhe point is zhat zhey said zhere vas no body, vhen zhere _vas_." His face turned serious. "Our suspicions vere justified, it vould seem."

"Doc, you crazy sonovabitch," Engie turned to face him, bewilderment dancing behind his blue eyes. "Y'all have just become mah new favourite person." He patted the German on the soldier with a widening smile before standing up and hurrying off without further explanation, making for the van that Sniper was currently napping in.

"Vhere are you going?" Medic called after him.

"You got the body," Engie stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around "Now I need to look at this _accident"_ he griped the written down address in his pocket tightly as he hopped into the van and started the engine.

. . .

"Hold on, _back_ up." Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to shift his post-nap grogginess. "Medics got Pyro in a bloody freezer .. in his _van_?"

"Keep up down under; it ain't that hard to understand."

"No s'not hard to understand, s'just these past five years I sorta forgot how bloody _nuts_ my old teammates are." Sniper was in the passenger seat, where he'd been sleeping until the Engineer had got in and drove them away from the others without a word of warning "Can ya, uh, slow down a bit mate? The vans _new_."

"Heh, I liked your old one. Besides, needa get there asap, not riskin them doin' away with any evidence."

"Wait, wait, where're we goin'? Evidence of whot? Engie- _slow_ down!" the Engineer swerved around a corner so abruptly that the tires screeched loudly on two wheels and the Sniper _thumped_ into the passenger door, gripping onto his hat for dear life, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"_Foul play_. An' we're goin' to Pyros place." The Tex kept his eyes on the road. "Might wanna buckle up there, pardner."

"Ya bloody loon! Wait, whot? Pyro's place?" When Sniper realised what his shorter friend was getting at, his shoulders dropped low "Augh, _piss_." He pulled his hat over his face and slumped back in his seat. Why was he the only one that wasn't completely _mad_? He should have become a bloody wallaby groomer. They eventually pulled up after a few more miles, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

"This it?" Sniper inquired in a monotone voice as he set his tired eyes upon the charred remains of the little house up the path. He was not amused.

"Sure is." Engineer hopped out of the van with Sniper hesitantly following behind as he cursed under his breath. Pyro had been living in a small two levelled house with one bedroom and no nearby neighbours. There was no plant life in the garden and no mailbox either. Sniper found it hard to imagine his late-teammate living a traditional life in a house as a 'normal' member of society, but the Engineer always claimed that the masked man wasn't quite as strange as everyone assumed he was. Then again the Texan had a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of crazy himself so perhaps he wasn't the best to make that judgment. The fire had caused the roof to crack open like a festering wound and all the windows were blackened over, running down the side of the building like ebony tears.

"What exactly are we lookin' for here?"

"_Somethin'_." The Engineer began to walk up the path to the house as Sniper begrudgingly dragged his feet behind, still grumbling. The door had already been torn off, presumably by the firemen first on the scene, so the two ex-REDs were able to walk in without obstruction. The interior was ruined – no, it was _destroyed_. Black was everywhere and the smell of burnt and decaying wood filled their senses; it was hard to even breath air this tainted with lingering smoke.

"Must'a been one helluva fire, t'do this much damage." Mused Engie.

"Y'know that Pyro _liked_ fire, yeah? Had a penchant for _burning_ things? Was called '_The Pyro'_?"

"I _know_ that he liked it, but ain't you just a lil' bit confused as to how a man who was forever in a _flame retardant_ suit and _gas mask_ was able to suffer from smoke inhalation? I mean come on Stretch! Pyro knew what he was doin', sure he was a few screws loose but can you honestly stand there and tell me that _that_ man was capable of making a mistake with _fire_?" Calling the Pyro 'a few screws loose' was a horrible understatement at best, but the shorter man had a good point. Still, he just sounded like a grieving friend to Sniper. Sure Pyro knew what he was doing but accidents happen, don't they?

_Tha-thump tha-thump_

Suddenly, the torched house fell deathly silent. When Sniper opened his mouth the Engineer raised his gloved hand for quiet and the two mercenaries listened intently as the old house creaked and moaned. But that had been neither creak, nor moan. That had been footsteps.

_Tha-thump_

Someone was shifting about upstairs. If their ears had been any less keen, then maybe they'd not have heard it – but there was definitely someone up there sneaking about. Slowly, and as quietly as the ruined floorboards would allow them, Sniper and Engineer crept towards the stairs.

'_Go that way'_ mouthed the Sniper as he made for the other direction. Engineer went to check out the bedroom but their smart shoes clicked on the floor indiscreetly. Every little movement they made seemed to result in exaggerated noise now that their ears were so focused.

_Creeeeak_

It was so very quiet, but the source of the noise was definitely coming from the cupboard in the hall. Peering into it, Sniper could barely see a foot in front of his own face, so he pulled out his lighter and flicked it open. Holding it above his head, he slowly made his way further into the large, dark space. The orange illumination from his lighter was sparse and it flickered even in his steady grasp, causing shadows to dance over the walls like demons at play. He could barely breathe; the stench of burnt wood was overwhelming. When he reached the end of the cupboard, there was nothing. Nobody was there. Just emptiness greeted him. And silence.

"Piss." He'd been so certain that the noise had been coming from here, and his ears were so rarely wrong. It was only when he closed his eyes to try to pinpoint any foreign sounds that the Sniper very clearly heard someone exhaling - right in front of his face. When he opened his eyes, he felt another set boring right back into him, mere inches away. He stiffened.

Suddenly, he was shoved back with such ferocity that he slide right out of the cupboard, long legs flying into the air. In a flurry of smoke and shifting shadows, the BLU Spy de-cloaked before him, eyes darting about the room madly in search for somewhere to go.

"_Truckie_!" Sniper scurried to his feet as if inebriated and grabbed the nearest solid object, a scorched plank, as a weapon. However, the ex-BLU didn't seem interested in fighting. When he heard the Engineer hurrying in from his right, the Spy darted immediately to the left, making for the window in the bathroom.

"_Spah_!" The Engineer roared as he ran in hot pursuit, his vision narrowing to that of a tunnel, hauling blackened debris out of his path as he went like a miniature bulldozer. Sniper joined the chase, though it was difficult in such a cramped building. The Spy just managed to dodge Engies well aimed punch and he kicked the shorter man back, though it wasn't enough to delay him. Spy quickly changed tactics and leapt downstairs. Catching up, Snipers long leg went right through the floor which had been left charred paper-thin by the fire. He felt blood trickling down his shin and hissed.

"Bloody-!" he clawed at his own leg and pulled at it to free himself, but then the whole floor moaned loudly before caving in completely. Sniper went crashing down into the ground floor – right in front of the BLU Spy.

"Sniper! Grab 'em!" The lanky man was quick but disorientated from the fall, and the Spy was quicker as he right-hooked the Australian back down into the rubble before leaping over him and throwing himself out of the kitchen window, disappearing immediately from sight.

"No! _Damn_ it!" The Engineer punched a nearby wall with such fury that his right arm went clean through it and some splinters stabbed into his shoulder. Swearing in his rage, he tore his hand free and bent double to gain his composure, baring his teeth. As he struggled to catch his breath, he knew he'd allowed himself to get far too out of shape for this kind of thing and he glanced over at Sniper who was sitting with his arms resting on each knee, head down and equally out of breath.

"I'm gettin' too bloody old for this, mate."

. . .

"Listen here boys, now ya'll know I solve problems. But I'm afraid for this one, I'm gonna need all'a your help."

"Whits goin' on, lad?" Demomans face was swollen from his brawl with soldier that morning, but the whole team had came to greet Sniper and the Engineer when they'd pulled up to see why they'd left so quickly in the first place. The Medic stayed back, watching the Engineer carefully with an unreadable expression.

"I won't sugar coat for ya'll, so I'm just gonna come right out an' say it. I don't think Pyro died in an accident. I think that he was _murdered_. And I think that BLU were the ones behind it."

"BLU?"

"Are you serious?"

"Oh come on, Engie!"

"Lads, lads!" Sniper hushed the protesting group. "Let 'im explain, yeah?" When silence returned, the Engineer continued.

"Me an' Sniper went to check out the scene of the 'accident' an' while we were there, we found the BLU Spah creepin' around. He attacked Sniper, an' then he ran off in a mighty hurry."

"But … you are sure dis was BLU Spy? They disband five years ago, dah?" Heavy was not convinced, arching a thick brow and folding his bear-like arms across his bear-like chest.

"I'd _never_ forget the face of the man who was forever sappin' mah contraptions. Sniper recognised 'im too, and he spent plenty of time lookin' at 'im down a scope."

"S'true," conceded the Australian "No doubts, was definitely him."

"That slimy sonovabitch! So he killed Pyro?" Soldier was red in the face with anger as he clenched his big fists tightly, more so probably because he held a permanently aggressive disposition than from any real enragement at the murder of his least favourite team mate. "This American boot will go so far up that rifle-droppin' cowards ass, I'll kick his teeth out at the same time!"

"So what the hell're we waitin' for? Those chumps think dat they can just be all like, killin' one of our guys and we'll just sit with our thumbs up our ass? Let's go kill us some BLUs!" Scouts overactive lust for violence hadn't dulled at all, it would seem. He spat out the gum he'd been chewing and cracked his knuckles loudly.

"Zhis is a _Spy_ ve're talking about, ve don't _have_ zhe means to track someone like zhat down." Medic was quick to point out. "And now zhat he knows ve're onto him, he vill likely be even _harder_ to find."

"Doc, come on man! We can't just sit an' do nothin', we gotta catch dis bozo before he runs back to France!"

"Medic's right, we don't have the skills to find him. But we all know someone who _does_." The other mercenaries stared at him expectantly. "Boys, we need to find our RED Spah."

"But you said dat you tried t'find him, didn't ya? For Pyros memorial? He fell offa the planet or somthin'?" The youngest merc looked perplexed as he scratched his hair, shifting his weight to lean on his other foot.

"Truth be told son, I just didn't look that hard. Figured what with his type an' all, he wouldn't appreciate me hacking into REDs files to find him just for a memorial. But I think all'a this changes things. Now, I know how to access REDs files that hold the data collected on each of us, and that includes where our Spah-"

"Wait so, Why don't'cha jus' hack into BLUs then, genius?"

"Y'all don't think I would have if I could? I don't have the codes to do _that_ kinda thing, but I helped _build_ most of REDs terminals – so I know how to crack 'em."

"An' the only non-BLU who can access their terminals is our RED Spy?"

"That's about right."

"Then tell me," Heavy, who had fallen silent, now straightened up and cracked his thick neck "What are we waiting for, dah?"

_. . ._

_Many thanks to you guys for the great feedback, I really do appreciate and encourage constructive criticism (and who's not a sucker for compliments too?) Hope you enjoyed this one, next chapter will be out within the next week - Des_


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

. . .

"I know darlin', wish I didn't have to either, but it's only for a lil' while longer." The phone was hugging the crook of Engineers neck as he spoke softly to Arleen, who'd become heavy-hearted upon learning of her husband's extended stay away from home. The house was awful quiet without his absent minded but ever present whistling she'd told him.

"Jus' promise me you'll be safe hon? Ya'll know how I worry…" her voice was low and he could picture the frown on her face, the one that brought a little crinkle above the bridge of her nose and narrowed her eyes. He'd never told his wife about the dangers of his old job, but she'd seen his scars and was no fool – she knew her husband hadn't been a run-o-the-mill engineer for RED. Still, she kept her word, never asking to know any details. She simply asked that he be safe. Still, the burly Texan sighed as he clutched the phone closely. He hated lying to her, but he'd tell her a thousand lies to keep her mind at ease while he wasn't at her side to soothe her. There was no safer place for Arleen to be in this world than in her husband's arms.

"I know, I jus' gotta help the boys clean up a few last minute odds an' ends an' I'll be on the first plane home-"

"Hey chucklehead! We goin' or what!?" Scout leaned out of Engie's rental truck just off the road, a cap pulled over his head as he sighed emphatically to express just how tired of waiting he was. The boy seemed physically incapable of being still for any real length of time; if he wasn't drumming his fingers or tapping his feet, he was playing with anything within reach or rummaging through anything that could open. Must'a drove his momma crazy as a youn'un, thought Engie

"Hey hardhat! Hey, _hey_ _hard_-"

"I _hear_ ya, ya pea-brain!" Scout slumped back inside with an exasperated groan and dragged his hand down over his face. Engineer apologised to Arleen for Scout, '_he's not all there'_ he'd explained. After saying his goodbyes, the Tex clambered into the driver's seat and shot his passenger a glowering look as Scout sat smirking, playing with an air freshener.

"That your wife?"

"yeah."

"She know why you're here?"

"Yeah."

"She know why you're _really_ here?"

"Nope."

"Got kids?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"There a _reason_ you're askin' for mah life story, son?"

"Nah, jus' thought an old timer like you woulda had kids by now. 'Case ya die of old age or somthin'." Engineer just chuckled at that as he warmed up the engine, fixing the mirror that Scout had moved out of place when he'd fiddled with it.

"Who needs kids when I got _you_ ta mess up mah van for me?" It had been the same five years ago; Scout would get bored of pestering the other REDs and wonder on down to Engie's work shop. He'd move things, break things, lose things, hell once he even _found_ an old wrench that Engie had been looking for.

They'd gotten Spy's address from REDs files easily enough with Engie's know-how, but picking a passenger had been more daunting than it should have been. Sniper had mysteriously disappeared from sight after Engie announced that he was looking for someone to accompany him, and although Soldier volunteered Engie mysteriously seemed not to hear him. In the end, Scout had agreed to come after finding out that Boston was where they were going. After an hour's drive though, the old van jolted, croaked and suddenly screeched to a stop.

"Darn it all." Engineer knew the sound of a tire taking a nail when he heard it, and he gave a long dreary sigh.

"Hey _no problem_, I know how'ta change a dumb tire." Scout jumped out of the van, his dog-tags bouncing off his chest as his feet clapped onto the sandy ground, causing dust clouds to rise.

"Scout, maybe ya'll are better off leavin' that t'me-" But the young man was already kicking at the tire iron with his heel to loosen the nuts, cursing loudly when they didn't budge. Scratching his shaven head, Engie observed the scene for a bit before moving the boy aside.

"Now _that_ ain't gonna do it." He crouched down to remove the nuts with his gloved hand, hoisting the tire off as if it weighed no more than a feather. The shorter, stout man sure was a lot stronger than he looked. Scout watched him work, fascinated, before his natural knack for speaking before thinking kicked in.

"So how come you still wear dat old glove anyways?"

"Jus' go get me the dang spare, boy."

"Fiiine!" After throwing his hands in the air Scout did as he was bid, but when he made to pull the large tire free, his eyes bulged and his teeth clenched. "Jeez, it's, uh, s'a little heavy!"

"S'as light as a box'a hair! Didn't your daddy ever show ya how'ta change a tire?"

"Pfft, he'd needa _know_ how ta do it himself first." He struggled, but slowly managed to bring the tire to Engie's waiting hands. He couldn't imagine how hard his life would have been back in Texas had he needed to call for assistance every time he got flat on the road - especially as a wayward teen in his first pick-up, now _those_ where the days. After demonstrating for his rather easily distracted comrade how to change a tire, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve and sighed.

"See? Easy as pie." On the road again, Scout yapped on about various topics, none of which Engineer paid much attention to, at least not until the subject of life in Boston was raised.

"-but I says to dis guy, 'yeah? Well Boston thinks _your_ ma's easy' and _bam_! Got 'im right in da face."

"Can't imagine your momma approved of that type'a behaviour."

"Nah, she was always wantin' us to be more like the Martins 'cross the block. Bunch'a freaks if ya ask me – the son don't even play _baseball_." He sounded truly appalled at that.

"An' your daddy?"

"… what about 'im?"

"He condone your beatin' up on the other boys?"

"Are ya kiddin'? If we ever came home cryin' 'bout some punk who'd beat on us, dad would belt the hell outta us an' send us back out to show that we weren't no pushovers." Well that certainly explained a lot. Engie felt a twinge of anger then, the protective side that he'd grown for the youngest on the team growling at the thought of a scrawny, much young Scout being beaten for crying. He swallowed that anger and changed the subject.

"So ya'll only ever lived in Boston?"

"Yeah, s'alright. Doubt it's anythin' like France though; dunno why Spy'd be there." He paused a moment, chewing his lip. "Ya think he already knows 'bout Pyro?"

"What makes ya say that?"

"Well it's the _Spy_, ain't dat what he does? I mean his old rivals all up in the know how an' everythin'."

"He's a _former_ Spy, son. Jus' like ya'll are a former Scout an' I'm a former Engie. We ain't supposed to be keepin' up with our old ways." Scout snorted contemptibly at him.

"Ya know what I do when someone says I ain't supposed to do somthin'? I _do_ it _anyway_." The statement was true enough for Scout, but it was clear that his intentions were to speak for his entire team. The Engineer chuckled and nodded in agreement.

. . .

"We're awfully sorry to bother you ma'am, but we're old colleagues of your husband an' I'm afraid we got a bit of bad news for him. Is he home?" Engineer used his warmest smile to greet the woman who'd answered the door. When they'd pulled up outside he'd almost thought they had the wrong address. He never imagined the Spy living in such a working class area. Perhaps Scout was right, maybe the Spy's _'refined tastes'_ schtick was all for show to throw people off what he was _really_ like outside of work. He'd knocked on the door very unsure of who would answer, but he certainly wasn't expecting a woman. She didn't return his smile, choosing instead to stare between the Texan and his younger companion wearily. Scout himself was looking at his feet, having just been given a thorough warning from Engie about what would happen if he ran his mouth off.

"What sorta bad news?" She opened the door a crack wider, head tilting in curiosity. She had a Bostonian accent and seemed somewhat familiar now that she had taken a step closer. "He in some sorta trouble?" she had a strained tone, as if she were expecting the worst. Realisation dawned on Engie as he analysed her features. He had only seen her in photos – all the REDs had – but this woman was most certainly the BLU Scout's mother.

"No ma'am, no trouble at all. Thing is, one of our former colleagues passed away recently an' we jus' felt it was news best delivered in person, you understand." Spy had been having an affair with her while he worked with RED, though most considered it a cruel jab at her BLU son. Apparently not, if he'd made her his wife. She bobbed her head solemnly in understanding before pushing the door open to permit them entry. When the RED Scout made to pass her, she suddenly stopped him with her hand, her once immaculately painted nails now bitten to bleeding point. He regarded her as she looked up at him, but after a brief moment she turned on her heel and went upstairs without another word.

"_I didn't do nothin'_!" Scout insisted in a whisper when Engie eyed him before heading into the living room. It was a homely home, the walls were dotted with various photographs of a large family and their many memorable days out, and the fireplace was overloaded with little ornaments and trinkets of personal sentiment. Standing stiffly in the small space, the two ex-REDs began to bicker in hushed voices when Scout realised just who had greeted him at the door.

"_Wait, was that…?_ _What the hell man!? Spy's married to that punk's ma? No way, what if he's here? What if he sees us and tells BLU an_-"

"Will you be _quite_? Try to stay calm or-"

"_But what if he_-"

"Gentlemen," That voice. They turned to see him; standing in the doorway clad in a casual brown suit – maskless – was the former RED Spy. "To what do I owe the _pleasure_?" His tone was calm but he stared at them suspiciously, his eyes cold.

"S'been a while, huh?" the Engineer stepped forward and cleared his throat "bit of bad news for ya, pardner." he offered his hand, which the Spy shook. "Pyro's dead." He took the information well, as most assumed he would. Spy himself was now in his late forties, though the creases on his face only seemed to make him look wiser, rather than older. His hair was greying in areas but still maintained some of the brown that he'd once hidden beneath his mask. Of all the middle-aged mercenaries he'd definitely been the only one to continue taking good care of his appearance.

"My condolences, labourer, I know that you were very fond of 'im." In typical Spy fashion he brought out a cigarette as he spoke, though he didn't light it as he eyed the pair awkwardly hovering in his living room. "Is that all?" anyone who didn't know him would think him incredibly insensitive, but Spy was simply letting his visitors know how painfully obvious it was that there was something else they had to tell him, and that he wasn't about to take part in small talk until they spat it out.

"No." the Engineer sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, deep lines framing his brow. "Sit down, son. This might take a while."

. . .

Back outside the hotel, Medic sat smoking in the driver's seat of his "rented" van as his large Russian friend sat in the passenger's seat reading a novel in his mother-tongue. The good doctor had garnered an affection for Heavy when he'd realised that there was much more to the giant man than just an unhealthy love for big guns and an insatiable appetite for sandviches. Although his grasp of the English language was crude, causing him to sound somewhat simple minded, lengthy discussions between the two had uncovered an incredibly intelligent side to the Heavy that only Medic really knew about. They talked less now, instead simply enjoying being in familiar company once again. The sun had set almost an hour ago but the night air was still warm and fireflies had slowly begun to assemble outside, slowly dancing and hovering about.

"What do you think Doctor, of this BLU attack?" Medic made a derisive noise, not bothering to take his gaze from the dashboard as he spoke.

"From zhe Engineers story I vouldn't exactly call it an '_attack'_, it sounded more like zhe spy vas simply trying to get avay."

"Dah. But why? Why be at leetle Pyro's home if not to attack team?"

"I do not think zhat he vas expecting anyone else to be zhere." He rubbed his face and threw the end of his cigarette out the window, suppressing a yawn. Maybe it was just because he'd aged since they'd last saw one another, but the German looked very tired in the dull light of the fireflies.

"Has been long day. I retire for night to greet Engineer and leetle Scouts return tomorrow."

"Ja, sleep vell mein friend." The Heavy nodded good night before exiting the van, which leaned to one side as he climbed out and then rocked noisily with the removal of such a weight. Once Heavy had closed and locked the door to his small hotel room, Medics sleepy demeanour changed to one of alert excitement and he grinned wickedly, climbing through to the back of the van. Seizing the large, metal handle of the freezer he yanked it open and his grin grew devilish as the air around him misted up with smoky frost, which curled around him and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention.

"Now," he shivered "let us see vhat really lay behind zhat mask…"

. . .

"And you are sure of this?"

"As sure as sure can be, me and Sniper saw him with our own eyes, it was the BLU Spah alright." The RED Spy sat in quiet contemplation, one leg crossed neatly over the other as he toyed with his unlit cigarette.

"I see. Then let us find out if BLU really 'as anything to do with this." He made to stand but Scout stopped him.

"Wow, wow, _wow_. Hold it right there, Frenchie." he turned to the Engineer. "How'd we know we can even trust dis guy anymore? I mean he's married to BLUs ma!"

"Oh, please-"

"Hey don't gimme dat! You've never exactly been in the most trustful "dis-po-sition" have ya? Now outta nowheres, BLUs back an' one of their guys has killed one of ours – an' you're _shacked_ _up_ with another one of theirs' ma? Nuh uh, _no way_, I don' like it. BLU is upta somethin' an' you're playin' _dad_ to one of 'em!" Spy kept his expression unreadable as he allowed the younger man to vent. The unlit cigarette danced between his fingers as Scout stared at his wedding band as if the ring itself was mocking him.

"And you feel the same way, toymaker?" his eyes cast over Engie, though they didn't convey his thoughts on their situation.

"Mah distrust don't lay with _you_, Spah, but I can see how the BLU Scout bein' your new son-in-law makes this a … _delicate_ situation. On a more personal level, that is."

"Very well. Then allow me to put your poor minds at ease. I could not possibly rat you out to the BLU Scout, even if I 'ad the desire to do such a thing."

"Oh yeah? An' why's dat?"

"Because the BLU Scout died three months ago." He looked down to stare at his unlit cigarette before slowly putting it back into its case unsmoked. "My wife 'as still not come to terms with it, but 'ow does a mother cope with the loss of her youngest son?" he smiled bitterly, but his eyes remained empty. "Naturally the boy 'ad tried 'is damndest to prevent my marriage to 'is mother at first, but eventually 'e gave 'is blessing - after _years_ of childish protest. Things 'ad just become peaceful around 'ere, when we got that visit from the police…" he broke off, staring into space. It was indeed true that the RED and BLU scouts shared strikingly similar appearances and that both had grown up in the poorer parts of Boston – they'd actually known each other before joining RED and BLU, but not that well. His similar appearance and mannerisms to her dead son must have been what had caught the BLU ma by surprise at the front door, he thought.

"… how?"

"An _accident_ they said, wrong place at the wrong time in a rough part of town." His tone was harsh and it was clear to Engineer that Spy didn't believe that story. His face was a strange mixture of anger, sadness and something else. Guilt?

"We need your help, Spah, something ain't right here."

"You need to find my counterpart, yes?"

"Yeah. But we don't even know where to start, s'the thing."

"Then leave it to me, my friend. I will find you once I 'ave 'is location."

"Don't'cha want our help? Could be dangerous goin' alone."

"Hm. We both know that I work better alone, and besides …" he adjusted his tie "If a crowd of us were to pop in unannounced at an old BLU base then it would certainly alert them."

"What, so we jus' gonna trust him, just like dat?" Scout looked between the Engineer and the Spy with unease. The muscles in his arms were twitching and his teeth, stained yellowish by the boink he always drank, were bared.

"Allow me to earn your trust once again, _boy_, I shall bring you this information on BLU and you will be grateful that I am bothering to leave my grieving wife to retrieve it." He still didn't like it, but the RED scout nodded nonetheless, looking away.

"Excellent, now go. I will find you when my task is completed." Spy smoothed his hair back absentmindedly, a scar he'd received from the BLU Snipers kukri visibly running across the back of his hand.

As they took their leave, Scout looked over his shoulder at a small framed photograph on a nearby shelf. He'd noticed it on his way in but hadn't been able to look at it properly. The quality of the photo suggested that it was new, and it was the only one that was given its own shelf rather than being hung on the wall with the others. It showed the BLU ma, who looked a lot less gaunt and far more radiant than she had at the door, with her hair dyed so no grey showed. Beside her was Spy, in a smart white shirt with brown braces and his arm around his wives shoulders, they both smiled happily as their heads touched affectionately. Spy's other arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a third person, who in turn had their own arm slung around him. The BLU Scout was beaming a large, cocky smile and had grown a small goatee but other than that, he looked just like his RED counterpart, who couldn't bring himself to look at the family portrait any longer.

. . .

_Two nights later…_

The battered remains of the old BLU building were so neglected and worn that one would assume it had been abandoned for decades, not just five years. The former RED Spy stared up at its towering mass, his eyes examining every nook and cranny as he mapped it out mentally in his mind, an old habit. There didn't seem to be any signs of life, but that would be a judgment made once he'd got inside. Pulling his old balaclava over his face and swinging his backpack over his shoulder – it was time to see if he'd gotten rusty over the years. With all the grace and stealth of a cat, he prowled up the footpath and picked the large lock that held the iron gates closed to the world. Once he'd glided up to the main door, he pulled a small box-like device from his pack and attached it to the nearby control panel, causing five years worth of dust to fall from it in a thick, chalky cloud. This was the part that _very_ few others knew how to deal with.

_Beep. Access granted._

It took longer than he'd have preferred, but he sapped the large entrance doors unlocked and snuck inside. The interior of the old base was grimy and smelled strongly of musk; it was safe to say that nobody had been here since the day of disbandment. Finding his way to the surveillance room, Spy pulled out several more gadgets from his pack and inserted line after line of computer code (which he had acquired from an old contact who owed him a 'favour') He successfully hacked into the BLUs terminal. Attaching a device that looked like a smaller version of his sentry sapper, Spy brought up a hidden window that required voice recognition to open its files. Activating his old disguise kit, he transformed into his former bosses pretty young secretary.

"Access requested."

_Identification required._

"Voice verification – Pauling."

_Voice verification confirmed. Access granted. Welcome, Miss Pauling._

With entry into BLUs private files, Spy dropped the disguise and began to search for the data collected on individual BLU mercenaries, which was stored for "emergencies". When he located the right files, he opened the one on his counterpart.

_BLU data file 003379 – Spy_

_Surname: Arsenault_

_First Names: François_

_Nationalities: French citizen_

_Place of Birth: Angers, France_

_Employment: 06-06-1968 – 01-08-1973_

_R. : 270191_

"R.I number 270191 …" The Spy punched the six digits into his silver "cigarette" case and saved the information before locking the computer down. He knew many decades would come to pass before the rest of the world could grasp technology this advanced. Although he would have loved to snake through all of the BLUs files to satisfy his ever present curiosity, he was well aware that all of BLUs (and REDs) terminals were linked up to a super computer that alerted whoever ran the whole thing of any activities that persisted, and that opening too many files would trigger suspicion. After all, the R.I number was all he needed. It was a scary thought, that to find a former mercenary of either RED or BLU one simply needed six simple digits. He placed all of his trinkets back into his backpack and crept silently back out of the room, smirking devilishly as he ghosted over the tiles. From the corner of the room, a tiny camera watched him leave.

. . .

"Pope's deed."

"Huh?" Sniper glanced up at Demoman, who was reading the cover of the morning's newspaper and swigging from his trusty scrumpy bottle. Judging by his glazed over eye, he was halfway to hammered already.

"_Pope Paul VI dies at 80_" he read the mornings headline out loud before offering his Australian friend a swig from his bottle. Sniper held up his hand in polite decline.

"S'eight O'clock in the mornin'." He knew the time didn't matter to the Scot but nonetheless lifted an eyebrow to shoot him a look over the rim of his aviators. Demoman ignored the comment and the look, as Sniper knew he would, holding up his scrumpy in a toast.

"God rest yer soul, Paul!" He swigged, staggering back a bit as he did so.

"You ain't even religious." Again the comment was ignored as Demoman slumped down next to Sniper, bumping him a little and continuing to read his paper, rocking slightly. The sharpshooting Australian suddenly recalled an incident seven years ago when he and Demo, along with Soldier and Medic, had been playing cards. Everyone thought Soldier was a crazy bastard – which was true – but he was also quite the poker buff. Only Demo had known of his skill at cards, and he'd already folded. It was just Soldier and Medic, who was on a winning streak, left in the game.

"I'm calling your ten," Medic had grinned "Vhat have you got?" Soldier had pouted and huffed, and then laid down his cards face up.

"Full house, Fritz."

"Holy dooly!" Sniper had been genuinely flabbergasted.

"_Vas zum teifel_!?" Medic dropped his cards and stared at Soldiers.

"_That_ is how we play cards in America, son!" Soldier had leaned back in his chair and lit himself a cigar, having rendered his three card buddies speechless. Medic had been so angry that the vein in his head was seen visibly throbbing and he reddened like a tomato. The fact that Demo and Sniper couldn't stop laughing at his expense certainly didn't help. He chuckled at the memory, though it was just one of many poker nights they'd shared. When he'd first met Soldier and Medic, he honestly never imagined himself drinking and playing cards with them, let alone counting them among his friends. Not only where they both mad, but Soldier thought Australia was a city in England and Medic introduced himself by asking for a blood and urine sample. _Look at us now,_ he thought.

"Hey Demo, where is the Doc anyways? S'unlike 'im not bein' the first one up." He turned to his drunk friend, who'd now discarded his paper in favour of staring up at the clearing sky.

"Dunno lad, no seen 'im either."

"Well aren't you two up early?" Engineer approached them, his own morning newspaper tucked under his arm, cup of coffee in his gloved hand. He wore a hat similar to Snipers, though it was far less beaten up. The Australian may have gotten a new house and van, but he refused to part with that damn hat. "Any sign of Spah yet?"

"Nah, not yet. Y'sure he'll come?"

"I know it's suspicious, what with him bein' married to the BLU Scouts momma an' all, but if the boys _dead_ then it's not like he can find out about any of this."

"An' he didn't say how the ankle-biter went?"

"Nah, sounded like it happened in a street fight though." The three men were quiet for a moment, considering that scenario. The BLU Scout, much like their own, was young and skinny but the boy knew how to take care of himself. A rough life with seven, equally aggressive older brothers will ensure that. He was a mercenary, and always first onto the battlefield due to his superior speed and agility. Enemy or not, for the kid to die before hitting thirty was sad, but to be taken out by common thugs? That was downright tragic.

It was nearly noon when Spy finally arrived and although a few of the former REDs had expressed unease at his chosen wife, they still greeted him as they would an old friend. He was exactly that, after all. Heavy wrapped him in a bear hug, which the much slimmer mans spine took surprisingly well.

"So did ya find our man?" Engineer asked, peering out from under the brim of his white hat. Spy patted Heavy's shoulder endearingly before smoothing down his trademark suit.

"But of course, and I think you'll be pleased to know that 'e's not very far." He grinned from ear to ear. "We'll have 'im by nightfall."

. . .

_Well, this chapter turned out longer than I had intended, but I have so many little memories and scenarios I want to add in, while at the same time wanting to progress the main plot … anyway, thanks again to everyone reading! The stories about to pick up so I hope ya'll stick aroun' for a bit! - Des_


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

. . .

The BLU Spy leaned over the bright monitor with trembling hands, his sunken eyes locked onto the humming screen. The excruciating pain that throbbed behind his eyes was enough to make him want to tear them out. His urge to collapse to his knees was overwhelming but he couldn't peel his attention from the monitor for a second - that was all it took for _them_ to sneak in. He was certain he'd done a good enough job to get here without them following, but you can't be too careful.

He'd spent months barricading this old barn until it was near-impenetrable and every inch of it was carefully monitored so that he had eyes encircling the entire premises. He'd been staring at the entrance on the dull screen for hours, his unwavering concentration nearly snapping several times due to his headache. Spy was a patient man after all, but he was still human. Wasn't he?

God it felt like his own body was eating itself from the inside out. His grey suit (he hadn't worn blue since leaving his team five years ago) was ragged and his black balaclava stuck to his face with cold sweat. He reeked of the dried blood that clung to him beneath his suit and mask. Maybe he could lie down for just five minutes? _Two_ minutes? _No. No, don't be_ ridiculous. He had to focus. That had been the RED Sniper and Engineer back at the house and worse yet - they'd _seen_ him. He laughed a little then, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe if he didn't laugh, he'd weep. He ran a shaky hand over the material that covered his head, pain following the trail his bony fingers made.

When the picture on the screen began to flicker, his heart leapt into his throat and begin to constrict his already panicked breathing. When the monitor went completely blank, he brought his other hand to his head and barely suppressed his cry.

_They'd found him._

. . .

_Earlier that evening…_

In the gloom that spread over the land right after sunset but before darkness fell, Engineer drummed his fingers over the wheel of the rental van. His arm and back were tingling again and he was praying hard that his headache wouldn't start up until after this had been taken care of. Beside him was Spy, playing with an unlit cigarette as his eyes scanned the horizon. After a while those grey-blue eyes glinted and he leaned forward in his seat.

"Straight ahead."

"'sactly how sure _are_ ya that this is where he's at?"

"Quite sure." Spy looked down at his detecting device and nodded confidently.

"An' what if your, ah, lil' watch-thing there is wrong?" He gave Engie a look before fiddling with his device and punching in a few digits.

"_This_ code I got some years ago," he explained "so I am most positive that it works."

"Oh yeah? An' where's that one pointed at?"

"Directly beside me. That is," he smirked "after I put in _your_ R.I number."

"_Hrn_." Engie pressed his lips into a fine line. "Nifty lil' thing I'll give ya that. How did the boss even get away with makin' something like _that_?"

"Commissioning it under the guise of a _concerned employer_. It was designed to ensure that any mercenaries under their _benevolent_ care who got themselves lost on the field of battle could be quickly located and returned to safety. When Medic enhanced our 'earts to be able to survive the uber-charge, our R.I chips were inserted as well. Now there is nowhere we can go that someone with this" he flashed his watch "cannot find us."

"For our own safety." Engie said slowly.

"Convenient, isn't it?"

"I tell ya," he sighed "that's a helluva lotta small print I musta missed on my contract." Spy snorted at him, but the conversation died after that. Eventually a large building was seen in the distance, jagged and old looking, and once they were less than a mile from it Engie stopped the van. A little behind him, Sniper parked his own van too; he'd taken the rest of the team except for Medic, who'd demanded not to be disturbed. Nobody knew why but it was best just to leave the old German be. Engie had a lot of respect for Medic, but he knew the doctor could be a real twist. Then again, the same could be said for all of his comrades – and himself.

"Alright. We'd best go on up an' disarm the security cameras lickety split. Once we get those doors open, signal to Sniper to bring his van up." The Frenchmen nodded. They got out and made their way to the barn on foot, with Engie clutching his wire-cutters enthusiastically. Above them the sky was dark but remained faintly streaked with crimson, like the embers of a dying fire. Engineer thought of his friend Pyro, and he knew there was a good chance that once he got his hands around the BLU Spy's throat, he might not be able to let go.

. . .

Was it him or was the room getting … _smaller_?

The former BLU had been _so_ careful; he'd obsessively covered his tracks. Every minuscule detail was considered and considered again. He gnawed at his fingers, picked at his teeth and pinched at his nose. The room was definitely shrinking, closing in around him. Trying to smother him. Wait, was that footsteps? _No it couldn't be_. The Spy cursed himself and the world as he staggered towards another computer, an intense wave of cramping pain suddenly rippling up his spine. His head throbbed mercilessly as he fell to his knees, clenching his teeth. His legs spasmed and he cried out as every part of him writhed in agony - he felt on _fire_.

'_You can't be too careful, can't be too careful, can't be too careful, can't…'_

The monitor flickered back on for the briefest of moments and that's when Spy saw them. The former REDs. He blinked to clear the mist from his vision, almost in disbelief. _The REDs?_ So it wasn't _them_. He _knew_ he'd been careful. He bent forward to place his burning forehead onto the floor as a shaky laugh forced its way from his ruined lungs. The REDs would kill him once they got here, which they would manage without problem if that had been his RED counterpart he'd spotted on the bottom left of the screen. _Good_. At least RED would finish him relatively quickly.

Now inside the armoured barn house, the former REDs loaded their pistols. Sniper had brought his rifle but the rest were given one of the smaller guns that Spy and Engineer had brought along, which had caused some amount of kerfuffle from Solider and Heavy who preferred _much_ bigger guns.

"Is so tiny…" Heavy looked genuinely saddened.

"Crikey. Ya sure it's jus' their Spy in here? S'an awful lotta work for jus' one man don'cha think?" Sniper eyed the mass of complex contraptions and other technological devices surrounding them as they headed deeper into the barn, a distinctly musky smell enveloping them.

"Quite sure." Spy's tone was cool. "Believe it or not Bushman, there are some people out there who can get an '_awful lotta'_ work done just fine by themselves."

"S'that s'posed to mean?"

"_This_ way." Spy ignored his fellow assassin when he spotted a ladder. Climbing to the top level, the REDs peered around the various heaps of scrap metal and wires that littered the floor. Someone had been very, very busy. Engineer approached a nearby monitor which remained static from where he'd cut a couple of those pesky wires downstairs. He gave it a little tap with a gloved finger, but it sent pins and needles shooting up his arm and he winced, drawing back.

"Hey, y'aright hardhat?" Scout glanced over.

"_Fine_. Get goin'."

The lad made a face at him before sifting through one of the many stacks of paper, not really reading their contents but still impressed by the complexity of the plans. When he heard a low, stifled groan from behind a nearby shelf he went very still. Tightening his grasp on his pistol, he began to edge towards the shelf. Most wouldn't use the word _clever_ to describe Scout, nor would the word _subtle_ be a first to mind but he was able to manoeuvre himself over to the sound without looking overtly suspicious. It one swift movement, he struck the cloaked BLU Spy over the head, who fell into a heap.

"Gotcha, moron! Hey fellas, it's the Spy!" in far too much pain to struggle, Spy allowed himself to be roughly manhandled into the centre of the barn where he was thrown into in a chair to face the Engineer – who promptly shoved a gun right in his face.

"Howdy," his face was hard, his hand steady. "You'd best start talkin' boy, otherwise am gonna have'ta blow your head _clean_ off." The BLU looked momentarily alarmed before blinking, scanning the faces of those surrounding him and appearing more confused than scared. "Ah said_ talk_."

"I," his voice croaked. "-was surprised to see two former REDs the other night … but to see the whole _ensemble_, absent your Medic … and your Pyro…" he chuckled, though it broke into a cough. Blood leaked down his chin but he wiped it absentmindedly. "Truly a sight I never thought I would be seeing again.."

"It'll be the last _damn_ thing ya'll ever see if y'don't start tellin' me _exactly_ what ya were upta that night."

"Hmph. I should be asking _you_ the same thi-" Engineer pistol whipped him with enough force to send him sprawling to the floor and his team mates jumped slightly at the unexpected move. The Engineer was a soft spoken man, but he was also a cold blooded killer when he felt the need to be one. BLU Spy coughed and spat out a molar, not bothering to face the Texan who could barely contain himself, his whole body went rigid. Sniper, sensing the predatory intentions of his friend, placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. All Engie could think about was Pyro; writhing in fire.

"You getta ask me _nothin'_, ya scoudral!" The former RED Spy, growing increasingly concerned that Engineer was going to beat his counterpart to death before he got his turn, approached the wheezing man, standing between him and his potential executioner.

"Strange" he drolled "'ow you were found poking around after the death of our Pyro, but were markedly _absent_ after your own teammate was killed." Spluttering, still with his back to his interrogators, the BLU seemed to stiffen.

"…what?"

"I trust you know about your former Scout?"

"'ow … 'ow do you know about that?"

"_We_ are the ones asking the questions." Crouching, he cocked his revolver. "Tell me, does the rest of your team know what you are up to?" when there was no reply, RED Spy yanked off the prisoner's balaclava and threw him back into the chair. What the REDs saw caused the atmosphere to freeze over, icy fingers catching their tongues. The only sound within the whole, eerie barn was the crackling wheeze of the BLU Spy.

The whole right side of his head was shaven, revealing deep needle marks and grisly scars. Burns caused by repeated electrocution were prominent on each temple and his right ear was gone, the skin around the wound rotten. There was scaring on his neck too, trailing down beneath his collar. He looked starved with his sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks, but more than anything else he looked like an old man. He was about fifty, but his terrible state had aged him considerably and without his mask he'd been stripped of his armour. He'd been an invisible terror once, sapping sentries and backstabbing all that stood between him and his objective; like a demon. But now, he was just a man. His eyes were like saucers as he stared at the unmasked look of surprise on his rivals face. He answered the hanging question with a fierce voice that shook from the pain crippling him.

"The rest of my team are _dead_."

"What …?"

"They're all _dead_," he trembled and he began to blink furiously. "I'm-" He brought up a shaky hand to clutch at his head and it was evident by the scars that covered his hands that they'd been surgically opened as well. The incision lines disappeared under the sleeve of his jacket, leaving the imagination to ponder on what terrible disfigurement lay beneath the suit. "I'm the only one left…" And then, under the wide-eyed stare of his former enemies, the BLU Spy began to weep. "The prototypes ... 'ave been destroyed."

"What do you mea-"

"-You are _all_ marked for death now. I … I tried so..."

"Son, ya'll gotta tell us who's behind all'a this." Engineer spoke softly despite himself, lowering his gun and stepping forward.

"I can't. I can't I-" a sob managed to escape and he clutched his head with both hands now, he was beginning to have a panic attack. "I-I wanted to _free_ them but I - they made me watch … They-they won't – not _again_." His breathes began to race in staccato and he got to his feet so quickly that his chair flew backwards and crashed off the wall, the sound bouncing around the room.

"Easy fella," Engineer slowly raised his gun again. "We can help ya; let bygones be bygones and all that. But y'all needa _tell_ us who's behind this and what-"

"We _trusted_ 'im." He didn't see the REDs anymore. The men before him were now his dead comrades. His dead friends. He could hear their screams all over again. "We _trusted_ 'im." a long pause followed. The BLU dropped his hands from his head to hang limply. He muttered something that nobody present could quite catch.

"What?" Engie took a step forward, cocking his head to the side. The BLU Spy slowly looked up as a tear cascaded down his cheek; his dead eyes were blank - defeated.

"You can't be too careful." He pulled his pistol out, placed the barrel into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

. . .

The drive back to the hotel was completely silent, as the team thought over what happened at the barn. What the BLU Spy had said hadn't made much sense, but it was clear that the man had been through hell and back. What the hell could have happened to the BLU Spy to reduce him to the broken man that they'd just seen? One thing in particular that he'd said stuck out the most to his rival.

The entire BLU team was dead.

When his step-son had died, he'd wondered if it where his place to contact the boys old teammates to inform them. In the end, he'd decided that his wife had enough to deal with: she didn't need to know that her youngest son was a trained killer and had killed (and _been_ killed) by her husband. It was something that would have come up if the BLU team had shown up at the funeral. Still, if what his counterpart had said was true, then his suspicions had been correct. His step-son hadn't died in an accident, and neither had Pyro.

Someone was hunting them.

"_-You are all marked for death now…"_ The BLUs voice echoed in his mind.

. . .

The next morning Soldier was, naturally, in high spirits. Unlike his team mates who all had different, albeit lower than average levels of empathy, the American claimed to feel very little concerning the massacre of the BLUs. Engie had been on the phone all morning and Spy soon disappeared to consider their next move (and, no doubt, refrain from attacking Soldier.) Still no sign of the Doc, who'd remained holed up in his van. They others stayed in their rooms, thinking. That left only one thing for Soldier and Demoman to do; get drunk.

Soldier removed his shirt and discarded it, swigging at his beer and enjoying the feel of the sun on his bare arms. The greying undershirt he wore had an old stain down the front, which Demo assumed was barbecue sauce. He still wore his helmet, too.

"Take off your shirt an' lap up these rays while you can, Cyclops! Nothin' makes a man feel freer than a beer in the sun!" Demo agreed and unbuttoned his shirt but didn't remove it despite the generous warmth.

"Aye 's'a rare heat. Don't get weather like this back in Scotland I'll tell ye that! No even in the _summer_ - which only lasts aboot a bloody _week_ by the way."

"Y' know what? I've decided I'd like to see this Scotland of yours," Soldier mused "Could go haggis hunting."

"…_Haggis_ huntin'?"

"Yeah! Catch us enough of the lil' bastards to feed us for the whole week of summer!"

"Och aye! We'll catch us a whole bloody _herd_ 'o haggis!" They laughed and drank; reminiscing about the battles and violence they'd taken part in. Though it was on both their minds, they refused to talk about their dead rivals. All nine of them dead. Demo wasn't even sure how he was _supposed_ to feel about that. The drunker they got meant the more aggressive they got and it wasn't long before they were locking horns for absolutely no reason. Again.

"Don't get wide wi' _me_ ya bloody-"

"-get as wide as I _damn_ well please, you skirt-twirling-"

"-crush yer _nuts_ like a _hic_ bloody-"

"C_ross-dresser_!" Demo burped and threw his hands into the air, getting to his feet to storm off rather than get into a brawl. Soldier, as it were, was havin' none of that.

"Oh no ya don-" he reached up to grab him but only caught the back of his shirt. As it was unbuttoned, Soldier only succeeded in pulling it from his friend's body, causing Demo to stiffen. It was the first time he'd bared his back in years. Demo's dark skin was ravaged; thick, ugly criss-crossing welts marred into him like crooked latticework. Scars overlapped scars, misshaping his flesh - the result of a brutal whipping, Soldier deduced. The ugliness reminded him of the markings on the BLU Spy's head.

"…Cyclops?" Still holding his shirt and speaking much softer than he intended, Soldier cocked his head in question, his helmet rattling at the movement.

When they'd first met in '68 the black civil rights movement was still raging on and hopes were high that hate crime would give way to equality. One of the first conversations that Soldier had shared with Demo concerned the assassination of Martin Luther King (even if Soldier thought King had been president at the time) it had been all over the news. Never before had Soldier considered that his friend had been the recipient of hate crime. He was black, but no racist would survive an encounter with him after _provoking_ him. Surely?

"S'nothin'."

"The _hell_ it is," Soldier felt his rage boiling. "I'll _kill_ whoever-"

"S'fine Sol, wis a long time ago. I'd have killed 'em maself if I'd been more than a lad at the time."

"What happened?" Soldier took a step forward, his strong arms crossing over his chest. Now that Sol had seen; he'd not drop it until he knew.

"Right. Wis ma first time ta the States. Wis just a kid, ye'know – barely fifteen. Looked older though, passed as twenty-one nae bother. Wis … the summer of '47, I think. Can ya believe that? Nearly _thirty_ years ago … Anyway, I wisnae aware'a the segregation and that goin' on back then. Sounds hard to believe, ah know, but we wis so isolated up in Ullapool. Jus' wisnae prepared for anythin' like what America had, but lad's will do as they do." He took a large swig of scrumpy, wiping his dripping mouth. "Truth be told sol, still have no bloody idea what I _done_. Maybe I didn't do _anythin'_, but a bunch a locals lads took a real dislike ta me. I looked 'em in the _eye_, ye see. _Knew_ I wisnae below them, an' I bloody well didn't act like they intimidated me. They did." He admitted, forcing a grin. "To cut a long bloody depressin' story short, they jumped me one night, drove me off inta the fields. Think they were meanin' ta lynch me, but the whole town knew 'bout them, so…"

"They _whipped_ you?"

"Aye. That they did. Had an ol' fashioned bull whip an' everythin'. Said it wis one their grandpa used to deal wi' insubordinate slaves." He shook his head. "Bastards." Soldier handed Demo his shirt back.

"The sonsofbitches who did that weren't _real_ Americans. They weren't real _men_. I hunted down Nazi scum for years, I'll find these fu-" his whole body shook as he imagined his friend whipped for the colour of his skin. Skin that bore scars sustained from glorious battles he'd shared with him. He should wear every scar as a medal, not a mark of shame. Demo was the bravest man Soldier had ever met – and he _damn_ well refused to allow this injustice to be ignored. Sensing this, Demo covered his back and placed a hand on the Americans shoulder.

"Thanks mate, but dinnae be lettin' it get ta ye. Wis jus' the way of it back then."

"-lower than _scum_, that's what they are! Maggots! _Lower_ than maggots –maggot _shi-_" He continued to rant, his voice graduating to an ear-splitting scream as his anger consumed him. Demo smiled a soft smile – one of genuine gratitude. Soldier was nothing if not a Patriot, but he looked about ready to burn a path right through his beloved country if it meant avenging his best friend.

"Sol."

"I'll _snap_ their _spines_ with m-"

"_Sol_."

"What!?"

Demo squeezed him in a drunken, brotherly hug. "Cheers, pal." He held up his scrumpy bottle and grinned. After a moment, soldier did the same. He'd deal with _those_ bastards after he'd sorted out whatever crap the BLU Spy had been talking about. "So, ye know how ta hunt haggis dae ye?"

"Like a _captain_!"

From the roof of the hotel, Spy watched the two drunks together. He didn't know what to think about this whole mess with BLU, all he knew was he was in no the mood for company. He'd slipped away unnoticed by his team and glided up the stairs to the roof with all the grace of a-

"Alright, mate?" _Oh for the love of- _The Frenchman ignored Sniper as he continued to fiddle with his unlit cigarette, still watching Demo and Sol. "Cuttin' down?" when he regarded the lanky Australian, who was motioning to the cigarette he noted that Sniper really hadn't changed much at all these past years. The taller man done his goofy smile, a lopsided grin that resulted from never having his teeth straightened.

"I've quit," said Spy, as he lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips, exhaling a cloud of elegant smoke a moment later. Sniper snorted at him.

"So I see. 'Lot on yer mind?"

"I am sure _everyone_ 'as. Although I was not as close to Pyro as our dear toymaker, 'e was still a comrad-"

"S'not whot I meant." Spy arched a thin brow, but Sniper gave him a look. "Yer thinkin' bout yer step-son, yeah?"

"That … is none of your business."

"I know." He sniffed. "Wos he much like our Scout?" Spy took another long drag, contemplating wither to have the conversation or not.

"In some aspects. Truth be told, it 'as been so long since I referred to 'im as 'the BLU Scout' that I almost find myself correcting those that do."

"Whot wos his name?"

"… Nathan. Or just 'Nate' as 'e insisted." He smiled a little. "'e was furious when 'is mother told me."

"No kiddin'. Musta been weird tryna explain all'a _that_ to yer wife."

"_Please_, she _still_ doesn't know that _I_ worked for RED, let alone that 'er youngest son was an 'ired killer. She always assumed 'is 'ostility towards me was simply 'im being protective which, of course, was justifiable at the time."

"Heh. Christmas dinner musta been interestin'." Sniper snickered, picturing Spy and Scout kicking one another under the table and throwing food at each other behind the BLU ma's back

"Everything was interesting at first, naturally, but …" he went quiet. "Eventually everything worked out..." For the first time since his return, a deep reaching sadness reflected in the eyes of the Spy, his mask finally falling.

"M'sorry Spook."

"Why?"

"Don't needa pry any further t'know ya cared fer the lad. Everyone wos suspicious when we first found out 'bout you bein' married to his mum an' all but…" he sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "The war had ended; there _wos_ no more REDs or BLUs. Ya musta grown accustomed to the kids presence, if nothin' else. An' he's gone now so … m'sorry fer yer loss an' that." When Spy didn't reply or move for a long time, Sniper feared he'd said too much. They had butted heads more than most back when they'd worked together, but having similar jobs had eventually brought about a mutual (although unspoken of) respect. Standing awkwardly on the roof, he grew less than uncomfortable and made to leave.

"Bushman."

"Yeah?"

"… Thank you." He smiled at the Frenchman's back before continuing off. The sun was warming him through his vest and he could do with a quick siesta before Engie found something for him to do. Walking down the stairway however, he felt a cold chill creep up his spine - the type he got when hunting game in the outback and an unseen predator was nearby. He shivered, his ears prickling in suspicion.

_Drip_

His ear twitched.

_Drip drip_

He turned to the source of the noise, pinpointing its location. It was near.

_Drip-drip_

He walked around the corner to find himself looking at Scouts hotel room. The door was open just a crack but Sniper didn't need to enter the room to know what the dripping was. He didn't even bother to step over the thick puddle of blood that had gathered at the door before bursting into the room.

"_Scout!_"

. . .


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

. . .

"Scout!" Sniper froze at the scene playing out before him as his leather boots rooted themselves to the ground. Scout was suspended by his throat as his legs dangled limply a foot from the floor. Blood was pooling beneath him from a deep gash in his stomach and his head hung backwards, his eyes flickering unconsciously. The figure that held him wore a rag covering the lower half of their face, but their steely eyes turned to bore into Snipers. For a split second Sniper was sure he recognised those eyes.

Snapping back to reality with the snarl of a wild animal, Sniper unsheathed his kukri and charged forward. Scouts attacker threw him aside like one would a soiled towel before hopping back out of harm's way. The swinging knife just barely missed his throat but sliced off the chain that hung there. Sniper went at him again in a venomous but controlled rage, his movements predatory. Although the Australian was known for having an awkwardly clumsy manner off the field, when threatened he became unpredictably graceful – like a cobra. Sniper made to slice for his gut but the masked man quickly side stepped him and grabbed his shoulders, viciously head butting him with a sickening _crack_ as his nose broke.

"_Gah_!" stumbling back and grasping at his face, Sniper dropped his kukri and hissed through the blood leaking over his lips. With his new target disorientated, the masked man ran forward and kicked him hard enough to floor him - next to Scouts gun. The man lunged in for the kill.

_Bang bang bang!_

The masked man stared down the smoking barrel of the pistol as it lowered. All three bullets had hit him in the chest, but rather than fall to his knees to clutch his wounds the masked man merely began to stride forward. He reached out his bloody hand to seize Sniper.

"Hey-" Scout's weak murmur called meekly out from behind them. The man's head jerked in Scouts direction as his eyes seemed to dilate – his hunger for blood clear. Using the distraction, Sniper raised the pistol again and twisted the barrel forward.

_Bang!_

He shot the attacker right in the face, blowing him back.

"Wanka!" The man fell to the floor in a heap, twitching as if being electrocuted before falling suddenly still. Sniper struggled to his feet and made his way to Scout on long, shaky legs. The lad was barely breathing and losing blood fast as a sickening rattle quivered in his throat. A rustling noise caught his attention and he turned wide-eyed to see that the now faceless man was on his feet once more. Sniper braced himself over Scout like a protective barrier, ready to shield him from the incoming danger.

Then, the masked man turned on his heel and fled the room. A brief moment of silence followed before the sound of fancy shoes racing towards the room echoed down the hallway. Sniper turned to look down at Scout. His face was already chalk-white.

"_Medic_!"

. . .

"Scout vill be fine. Now hold _still_ dummkopf." Sniper was still clutching the chain the assailant had lost during their scuffle as Medic checked his broken nose. Spy, who had been the one to arrive after hearing the gun shots, was peering over Medics shoulder at Scout with a stern look.

"_Ow_!" Sniper swatted Medics hands away, grimacing.

"Sorry," _then why was he smiling? _"Now, I need to go and speak vith Engineer. I don't vant either of you pestering zhe boy – he needs to rest." They nodded but several minutes after the doctor had left the room, his teammates still remained. Spy couldn't tear his eyes from Scout, who lay unmoving in his bed. It was a rare thing – to see him so _still_.

The young man was stubborn as he lay with an unconsciously pissed off frown creasing his features. His slow breathing moved his chest up and down but was so faint that he made no noise. His brown hair was sticking out in all directions as if he'd just stuck his finger in a plug socket, like the disgruntled child his much older teammates often found themselves believing he still was. Spy didn't even realise he'd placed a hand on the boys cheek until his colleague spoke.

"Spook," Sniper scratched his neck. "'bout the guy who did this..."

"Yes?"

"Well he … he wos wearin' these." he handed Spy the long chain. At the end of it dangled two familiar tags. "Weren't they yer step-sons?"

. . .

_Boston, 1974_

"_Ma!" Scout bounded into his mother's living room, finishing his 'Bonk!' drink and crushing it in one hand, not daring to discard it on the floor. She was very strict about her house, his ma was. "Ma, ya home!?"_

"_In here!" he followed her voice into the kitchen where she sat with a glass of red wine. Her hair and makeup where done up real nice and the sweet smell of her sickly perfume lingered around the room like a pink cloud. "You're early, hon." She smiled at him, almost sheepishly. _

"_Yeah, yeah, Ronnie and Mac – whose back in town by da way – dey broke down on Carlton street 'cause Steve's a moron an' Shana got stuck in work 'cause Janey called in sick - so I thought I'd come see ho-" a rustling noise from the next room interrupted him. "Uhh, ya got company?"_

"_Well, yeah actually." She grinned a little. "Your old ma here's got a man."_

"_A boyfriend? Aw jeez, ma!"_

"_Don'cha 'jeez ma' me, young man! He's lovely – a real gentleman he is, not a useless ol' drunk like yer dad. You could probably learn a thing of two from him."_

"_Ooh yeah, sure! What, he like some sorta fancy schmancy Frenchie or somthin'!?"_

"_...yes, actually."_

"_Yea, ye- eh ... what?"_

"_He is French."_

"_He's French?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Like, from France?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Bonjour." A smooth male voice purred from behind him and the sound of a lighter sparking up a cigarette was followed by the smell of minty, familiar smoke. _

"_You gotta be kiddin' me." Scout turned to stare at the man, still clad in his red balaclava. _

"_Nate, I'd like you to meet ma boyfriend." They stared at one another, Scout's jaw audibly dropping. "His name-" before his ma could finish, he'd already ran forward and tackled Spy to the floor. _

. . .

Engineer rapped a gloved hand on the door to Medics hotel room sharply before peering inside. "Ya wanted to see me, Doc?"

"Ja," Medic motioned for him to enter as he sat on the bed, holding a brown box on his lap. Beside him was a tray of instruments, still bloody from when he'd cleaned out and stitched up Scouts stomach. "Close zhe door, bitte."

"So Scout's gonna be alright?" he moved to peer out the grubby window.

"Zhe vound on his stomach vasn't deep enough to cause any severe damage, but he vill need to take care not to open his stitches," Medic waved his hand in annoyance "But I didn't call you here to discuss zhat." The Texan hadn't expected he had.

"Pyro?"

"Ja." Medic nodded stiffly before sighing and running a hand through his grey hair. "Have a seat."

"Jus' tell me straight." Engie sat and swivelled his chair to face him. "What killed 'im?"

"It's … not as simple as zhat."

"… Oh?"

"Pyro vas … vell, he vas not actually _killed_ per se. Strictly speaking, he couldn't be."

"What in God's name are ya tryna say?"

"Engie," Medic licked his dry lips, not really knowing how to explain. "Zhe Pyro vas a robot." Silence followed Medics words as Engie sat with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Or, more specifically … he vas _mostly_ robot. He had blood, he had a heart - he even had a _brain_ but zhey veren't … _his_. He vas powered by some sort of, eh, _device_ zhat vas, vell, _inside_ him," He scratched his hair some more, causing it to point up. He wasn't sure if he'd even made any sense in English but passed Engie the brown box he'd been holding anyway "I believe zhat only you can figure out exactly vhat it is." Engie stared at the box as if he'd never seen one with six sides, dreading what lay inside.

"You're tryna tell me that the man I sat up with all'a those nights … the man I trusted an' fought alongside all that time … that _our_ Pyro was a _machine_?" Medic leaned forward and tapped the box.

"You tell me."

"S'impossible." The Tex shook his head. "S'jus' not possible!" He stood with a look of disgust, appearing almost as if he were about to hurl the box across the room.

"Isn't it?" Medic stared at the gloved arm wrapped around the box with coy interest. "He vouldn't be zhe only one on zhe team to have _improved_ himself… vould he?" Engineer looked at the box, then to Medic and then to his own arm. _No, he wouldn't._

. . .

"Engie-!" Sniper took long, quick strides after his friend as he stormed out of the deserted hotel car park. Engie had shouldered him on his rush out of Medics room pretty hard but hadn't stopped to apologise. "Slow down! Whot's happened? Is Scout-"

"Scout's _fine_."

"Then whot?"

"Doc. He says ... he says that Pyro wasn't human."

"Doc's a crazy bastard, mate."

"_Listen_. He says Pyro was a damn robot." Something in those worried old eyes told Sniper that he was being completely serious. "A goddamn machine – the whole darn time!" he punched the side of his rental van, a large dent instantly fixating itself where his fist had kissed it.

"Wos ... is he sure?" Engie ignored him for a few moments, pacing around and swearing under his breath. His arm hurt, his back hurt, hell his damn ass hurt from all the sitting around worrying about Scout he'd done. He exhaled deeply and dug the heels of his hands into his bleary eyes.

"I jus' don't know anymore."

He recalled a time when Pyro had come to visit him in his RED workshop. Nobody else ever bothered him when he was down there – it was Engies space – nobody had any business down there but him. Occasionally, however, Pyro would wander down. Not to talk, just to watch his somewhat neurotic work-mate do what he did best – solve problems.

"_Mmph mphrma prrh mow?" Pyro appeared by the bench in a manner that Spy would commend, causing Engie to jump. _

"_Oh! Y'all give me the heebie jeebies son" he chuckled. "Jus' whippin' up somethin' for the vents, they're rattlin' again." _

"_Mrrmph murph?" Pyro cocked his head to the side, a gloved hand resting on his hip. _

"_Sure, jus' hand me that wrench there." He passed the tool before slumping down into a nearby chair. "Thanks." For a few moments nobody spoke as Engie worked and Pyro played with his favorite lighter, flicking it on and off, open and closed. Engie was sure that if his friend didn't have that mask on, he'd be staring at the lighter with the same admiration that teen-boys do to beautiful women. _

"_Dmph mrphum phr..." Pyro seemed to have a calming effect on him, both on and off of work hours. He always had engies back while up against BLU, but even now in the workshop his silent eyes were a comfort, not a distraction. He trusted the masked man with his back the same way he trusted his own sentries. On occasions when Engineer overworked himself and became too tired, Pyro would even bring him coffee or a cold beer. His sentries certainly didn't do that, not yet anyway. _

"_Mprrh mmph muruph." He patted his friends shoulder._

"_Thanks, pardner." The team had taken to calling Pyro an "it" or even a "thing" but his amiable Texan friend knew him well enough by now. It was when they were alone like this Engie really felt he saw the man behind the flamethrower. He wasn't a 'thing.'_

"How?" Engie held his arms out, pleading with Sniper. "How can a man look so _real_ … when he ain't even a man?" anger replaced confusion and he went to strike the rental van again – but caught himself. Sniper stood, his hands shoved into his pockets and a look of grim concern on his face. As he watched his friend, his mind wandered back to the attack in Scouts room. Then, like a jigsaw puzzle, Sniper found the missing piece he'd been sensing.

_The figure that held him wore a rag covering the lower half of their face, but their steely eyes turned to bore into Snipers. For a split second Sniper was sure he recognised those eyes._

"Jesus," Sniper _was sure he recognised those eyes._ "Scout..."

"What?" Engie glanced around.

"The guy who attacked Scout. He wos masked an' that but, somethin' 'bout him wos familiar somehow. After he ran off I found the BLU Scouts dog tags." He scratched his chin. "Gave them to Spy."

"Uh huh?"

"Call me crazy but, I think the guy who attacked our Scout ..… _wos_ the BLU Scout."

"I'll call ya crazy Stretch, but that don't mean ya ain't right." Engie pulled his belt up a little and frowned as Sniper rubbed his face.

"Piss."

"I have a feelin' that whoever's behind all'a this – whoever tried t'kill the BLU Spy an' our boy Scout – they ain't usin' hired mercs."

"No?"

"Nah. I have a feelin' they're usin' Robots," his face darkened. "Robots that actually look like _real_ people."

"Is that ... even possible?"

"One way ta find out. You comin'?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Before they made to hit the road again, Engie tried to call home to Arleen but got no answer. He missed her terribly and ached for his wives touch desperately but what he'd learned now was too much to ignore. What he'd give to be with her now, though. There was only one place he could think of that could reap any answers for them – the BLU Spy's barn.

"C'mon, Doc, you're with us." Engie and Medic climbed into Snipers van after loading their weapons into the back. The Medic seemed to age about ten years after their visit to his room and he made no attempt to hide his displeasure.

"If your theory turns out to be correct," Medic sighed as they pulled onto the road "I'm returning to Germany tomorrow."

"_Heh_. Don't think that'll change much, Doc." Engineer pated his shoulder and chuckled before glancing out onto the road, the lines in the centre turning into a long, white blur as speed picked up.

"Why're we goin' back to the barn?" Sniper gripped the wheel of his van, his voice flat.

"Scout mentioned somthin' bout _'complex-lookin'-Engie-crap'_ bein' scribbled on a number of plans there. I didn't think much of it at the time, but it's all we have concernin' any'a this now."

"I could get an early flight…" Medic continued.

"Why would someone else be buildin' Robots t'kill us when we already bloody beat that Grey wanka? Heavy crushed 'im with his bare hands – we all _saw_ him doin' it!"

"Someone other than Grey, then?" Engie shrugged. "Won't know 'till we get there I s'pose."

"Hopefully zhe birds are still alive…" the doctor mused.

"Honestly, if I knew this job was gonna get so many crazy ol' men wantin' me dead I'd have jus' stuck ta trackin'!"

"_Heh_," Engie leaned out of the window to feel the speeding wind in his face. "There's still time."

The drive to the barn was quiet as an atmosphere of lingering unease filled the van like a thick fog. Medic sat picking his nails next to Sniper, who was gripping the wheel so hard that his knuckles were bone white. The three REDs contemplated that they were currently on someone's hit list – not the most trouble they'd ever gotten themselves into admittedly, but unpleasant news all the same. It eventually began to rain shortly before they arrived, though the air was still warm. The humidity quickly steamed up the interior of van, but the downpour outside became too heavy to roll down the windows. Sniper proceeded to sigh emphatically to let Engie know how unhappy he was with the situation, but the Tex seemed lost in thought.

Upon arrival and inside the barn once again, the three damp men instantly noticed that it was different somehow. It felt more spacious, cleaner even.

"Engie," Snipers voice called out from a corner of the giant room. "The Spy's body's gone."

"S'not the only thing m'afraid" Engie sighed, running a hand over his head. "So're all the plans Scout mentioned." Every table that had previously been covered in old notes and scrapped plans was bare. Even the floor that had been hidden beneath a carpet of old paper was now visible. Sniper whistled at the emptiness before them as cockroaches and flies quietly scuttled and buzzed about.

"Ve are too late?" Medic folded his arms, seeming more annoyed than worried.

"Crikey, someone really cleared this place out, eh?" Engineer scanned the space before him before walking up to check an empty cabinet. The last time he'd been here he'd spotted a familiar box kicked beneath it, but it was a tight squeeze.

"Help me out here," he and Sniper moved the steel cabinet back (damn he felt old as his back cracked with the effort) revealing a small red toolbox.

"Vhat is zhat?"

"Plans … they used to be mine, but I left them back at the RED base when we left." He opened the lid and scanned the contents fondly, not needing to read them because he had memorised every last detail. He picked up some blue prints and held them up as if viewing an expensive painting.

"Whot are they?"

"I used them" he removed his glove "to make this."

"Jesus, Engie!" Sniper backed away from his friend in repugnance. "D'ya cut off yer own bloody arm for ya loonball!" The robotic arm that sat in place of his own was both hideously impressive and beautifully alien. The hard fingers were longer and thinner than they should have been, stuck together by bulky black bolts and infused with yellow and red wires. The tips pointed and the outer steel had a shiny, black gleam. Thick red attachments clamped it onto the Engineers stump and the puckered up flesh around the rim suggested that it was not simply attached but burned on.

"Ain't she beautiful? I call her the gunslinger," he smiled at his arm, pride shining in his eyes. "Arm still tingles now an' again though, but she's worth it. Pyro helped me fix her on one night in the workshop."

"Yer mad!"

"Am I?" Engie looked at Sniper now with an expression he'd never used with him before.

"And zhat?" Medic indicated the box still by Engies feet with a lazy wave of his arm, apparently unfazed. At the top of the paper pile lay what looked like a black and white photograph.

"Now this I haven't seen before." He examined it. "S'the BLUs." It appeared to be a team photo taken some years ago, perhaps just shortly before they disbanded. In the centre was the BLU Heavy, a massive smile on his face as he wrapped his bear-like arms around the shoulders of both the Sniper and the Demo. Demo's hat was gone to show an afro and he had his arm around Soldier, who in turn was making a 'v' sign behind Pyro. The Spy had a soft smile and was unmaksed – very handsome in his prime – as he stood beside Sniper and Medic. Crouching in front of Heavy in the middle was their Scout and Engie. They were all smiling and on the bottom left corner '_All the crew - C'_ was scribbled down in enthusiastic script. Every man's face, bar the Spy's, had been scored out.

"Zhe Spy must have been scoring off his team as zhey disappeared..."

"See that?" Sniper pointed to the bottom of the photo. "Who's 'C'?"

"All'a these plans are signed by this 'C' …. Don't ring no bells." Engie continued to look through the contents of the box as Sniper and Medic looked at the photo. It put a disturbingly humane image of their old rivals into perspective.

Engie remembered coming across those plans for the first time almost nine years ago. The schematics for the gunslinger had instantly appealed to him – he'd actually considered cutting off both of his arms at first but after infection had set in and caused him to seek out Medic (who was fortunately even madder than he was) he decided one was enough. The gunslinger was beautiful because she wasn't just a robotic hand – she was _his_ hand, only better. She was actually attached to his nervous system so she was not remotely controlled. She was a part of him.

"...wait-" _She was a part of him_. Would that make Engie part robot, he wondered? "Good lord."

"Whot?" "Vhat?" his comrades turned to him as he stared at the plans in his hand - plans detailing a new gunslinger – one that looked like a flesh, human arm. He'd never considered more than just one gunslinger per arm, but with his know-how he could certainly make leg equivalents and more if he wanted.

"I don't think that whoever's behind this has been makin' robots that look like people…"

Robotic arms, legs ... insides? All controlled by a human nervous system. Only then, as he held those dusty schematics in his gunslinger, did the former RED Engineer manage to deduce what the BLU Spy had been saying.

_"The prototypes ... 'ave been destroyed." He'd said. "You are __all__ marked for death now. I … I tried so..."_

"-so hard to save them..." he finished for the late Spy.

"_Zhe Pyro vas a robot." Medic had discovered. "Or, more specifically … he vas mostly a robot. He had blood, he had a heart - he even had a brain but zhey veren't … his. He vas powered by some sort of, eh, device zhat vas, vell, inside him."_

"_There's been an accident ... Pyro's dead."_

_"The prototypes ... 'ave been destroyed." He'd said. "You are __all__ marked for death now."_

"Damn..."

"Engie?"

"Fellas," he turned, ashen faced, to his two teammates. "Pyro _was_ the prototype. Whoever's behind all'a this ... has been makin' _people_ into _robots_."

. . .

_You guys are awesome, thanks again for all the great support you're all giving me! Hope this chapter didn't seem too sloppily done, I've had allot on my plate recently so kinda fearing that I'm not writing as well as I could be. Hope you enjoy it regardless! - Des_


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

. . .

"I don't get it." Sniper looked dumbstruck as Medic wandered off to another part of the grubby barn, looking for anything of interest left to salvage.

"My gunslinger - she ain't controlled by anything outsida me, that is to say; she works exactly like my real arm had, except she's stronger - _better_."

"But ... she-uh, _it's_ still a robotic hand an' not a real bloody one."

"Humph. Six years ago we were outnumbered by Gray's machines. Yet, _we_ still won. Why d'you think that was?" Sniper thought about that for a moment before answering with absolute honesty.

"We got lucky."

"We got _smart_." Engie snapped. "We grew with experience and learned how ta adapt an' fight in ways best suited to robots rather than people. We were weaker, but they were at a disadvantage because they weren't _human_. They were programmed to fight a certain way - had no mind of their own –did as they were told while _we_ had free range to reason and adjust. That's what makes us _human_. Y'know, my daddy always told me that the brain is the most complicated machine in the world an' I wholeheartedly believe he was right. If you combine our ability to think for ourselves with the steel endurance and sheer power of a robot," he brought up his gunslinger and balled its metallic fingers into a gleaming fist. "What d'ya get?"

Suddenly something rattled nearby, causing both men to go still. Medic was still at the other side of the barn, rummaging for anything he could find and oblivious to the noise. The scent of danger soon filled the air like a mist and both men found themselves on the battlefield once more. Their skin crawled with adrenaline; Engie had to suppress the urge to grin.

"A very big problem." Sniper finished as he turned.

The two men sprinted in separate directions as gunfire erupted from above. Sniper ducked to one side and into the shadows of an empty, overturned locker. Stepping out into view was the man Sniper recognised from Scouts hotel room. The right side of his face was covered with the same shabby cloth that once hid his nose and mouth. The new arrangement of the mask confirmed Snipers suspicions – it was the BLU Scout. He spotted Engineer, who hadn't managed to make it to cover and let loose hell in a flurry of fresh gunfire.

_Crack – crack – crack!_

"_Gah_."

Engie halted as he lost his own pistol, swearing as one of the bullets skimmed his arm. Weaponless and too far out to take cover, he held up his hands in surrender and warily turned to face his attacker. The Scout stared back at him with a blank expression before beginning to reload his weapon. Biting back a curse, Sniper snatched his own rifle from his back and took aim. Attracted by the gunfire like a shark to bloody water, Medic stepped out into view and cocked his own pistol in warning to the BLU.

"Don't even zhink about it."

It was unusual to see him with such a weapon as he'd always been partial to saws and his medi-gun, but his teammates knew damn well that he could hold his own in a gun fight, if said guns were small enough. The Germans sudden appearance caused the Scout to pause, registering the new threat. Something about the boys movements were twitchy and on edge.

Sniper used the distraction to creep out of his hiding place and close in on Scout with the silence of an experienced tracker. With a swift capture of his wrist followed by a sharp jab to the throat, the BLU Scout was skilfully disarmed. With impressive speed, even by his standards, Scout suddenly turned and kicked Sniper away as Engineer came rushing at him with his gunslinger looking for blood. Rather than leaping away however, the Scout lunged into Engies reach and caught the smaller mans arm under his own, twisting his fingers around the gunslinger to immobilise it. Just as Scout brought out a hidden blade and made to slam it into Engies chest, from the corner of his eye he saw Medic readying his pistol and Sniper bringing up his rifle. Both had their fingers on their triggers.

Holding Engineer up by his ensnared arm, Scout swung around and took cover behind his human shield with a dangerous glare – daring them to fire. Medic and Sniper froze.

"Shoot 'im, damnit!" Engie was shorter than Scout, but the lad was doing a helluva job remaining completely hidden behind him – even in Snipers all seeing scope. "Shoot 'im!"

"Ve can't!"

"Jus' _do_ it!"

"Bloody-!"

"Do it _now_!"

A gunshot cracked loudly.

Crumpling sideways, half of Scouts skull shattered away to reveal blood smeared steel plates and sparking wires. He flopped gracelessly to the floor, releasing Engie from his grasp. A fourth figure appeared from the shadows – a smoking revolver in his hand.

"Spah!" The Frenchman walked up to the limp body of the Scout, still aiming his gun at him. The half of his face that wasn't destroyed looked so ... _afraid_. His remaining good eye blinked up at his step-father fearfully. He looked lost. The Spy took a deep breath but couldn't force himself to look away. The cloth had gone from Scouts face, revealing the gaping wound that Sniper had given him in the hotel room. But beneath the flesh was not bone – it was steel. He was tattooed in incision scars just like the BLU Spy had been beneath his balaclava.

"Are ya gonna be ok?" Engie asked his stunned friend.

Spy ran his fingers through his greying hair, his eyes never leaving the boy before him. "I will 'ave to be." Unconvinced, Engie continued to search his face, pity evident on his own. "... what did they do to 'im?"

"They killed him. This ... _thing_ right here, it ain't your step-son so don't let the face fool you." Spy turned angry eyes towards him.

"I gave 'im this scar _myself_," he ran a finger over the small, permanent nick under Scouts right eye. "Tell me, what robot can be _scarred, _Toymaker?"

"One ... that _used_ t'be human. But ain't anymore." Spy's eyes changed from demanding to pleading, though no request left his lips. He knew the answer. "He can be allowed to rest now. I'll take a look at these plans and find out how to deactivate 'im; normal weapons won't shut 'im down." He and Medic made to look through the scribbled plans while Spy remained glued to the spot. Sniper stood beside him, unsure of what to say. When he'd been a boy and his grandfather died, his own father – his grandfather's son – didn't shed a single tear at his funeral. His mother had explained that his father's upbringing taught him that crying was a sign of weakness. He realised now that his father had been wrong, as he stood shoulder to shoulder with the Spy and watched tears silently run down his face. He didn't see the Spy as weak. In fact, he'd never had more respect for the man in his life as he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

. . .

_Boston, 1976_

_The Spy strolled beside his soon-to-be step-son, though the young man was blissfully unaware of that inevitability. He'd been vehemently against his mothers relationship with the French rogue and had only recently (after three years) began to tolerate being in the former REDs company. Sometimes. _

_This was the first time he'd agreed to spend some time alone with the Spy, who had suggested they go for a walk around the park – entirely for his mother's sake, of course. They'd been walking now for forty minutes and neither had spoken yet._

_Scout finally caved, his disdain for any form of quiet egging him on as he gingerly looked over. "So, how come we're doin' dis anyways?"_

"_Because it is fun." Spy said in bored monotone._

"_Yeah, when does da fun part start?"_

"_This is the fun part."_

"_What? What, walkin'? You find walkin' fun? I thought we were goin' somewhere cool, man!"_

"_I find it relaxing, and I find being relaxed fun."_

"_That's kinda gay."_

_Spy rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you consider anything that does not involve bashing someone's 'ead in with a bat 'gay' yes?" Scout just snorted in response. Further awkward silence followed._

"_Why're ya doin' dis to me?" Scout finally blurted out. _

"_I beg your pardon?"_

"_She's my mom ya jackass. I only got freakin' one! Why'd ya have'ta do dis to me?"_

"_Believe it or not, Nathan, the whole world and everything I do within it are not always done with your happiness, or lack of it, in mind."_

"_It's Nate," he corrected. "Well why then? Jus' tell me!"_

"_Because I love her." Scout stopped in his tracks, and the Spy copied him a few paces ahead._

"_But why?" _

"_Because she makes me happy? Because I want to spend the rest of my life with her?" at that, one of Scouts eyes arched dramatically. "Nate, I requested you out tonight to ask for your blessing. The truth is I wish to ask your mother to marry me." All was still and quiet for a while, until Nate doubled over and his bellowing laughter rang loudly throughout the park. _

"Spook?" Spy jerked back from his memory at the sound of the Bushman's gravelly voice. "Engie's found somthin'." Silently, Spy followed him back to the centre of the barn where Engie and Medic were looking through the only remaining, messy papers from the red toolbox.

"So, according to this the nanoids we need are stored inside the prototypes ... so, inside Pyro."

"Nano-whot?"

"Nanoids. Microscopic machines made for cellular regeneration and destruction. In this case it's to destroy the biological structures that are being mimicked by the machine-part of the BLUs. They're programmed to replicate upon entry and deactivate all foreign machinery, using Carbon as fuel an-"

"Right, right," Sniper held his hands up. "They kill the robots, got it. How'd we _get_ them?"

"Zhe device I gave you." Medic remembered, turning to Engie. "Did you have a look at it?"

"Ah," He pulled the small brown box from his pocket "Nah, not yet."

"If I understand zhese plans correctly, zhen zhe nanoids should be in zhere vhich means ve have our solution to zhe Hubots."

"Hubots?" Sniper quirked an eyebrow, his arms folded.

"That's what this '_C'_ character refers to the new robots as in these plans."

"Right. Well, let's go find us some Hubots then – and this 'C' wanka along with 'em."

. . .

The grainy screen flickered and jumped out of focus but did not deter the onlooker's concentration. The camera he had planted behind the Scouts right eye was damaged but still feeding the imagery back to him as he sat in his chair. He listened to the four former REDs babbling away.

"_Zhe device ... gave you. Did you have a ... at it?"_ the audio fluttered.

At the Germans words the onlooker sat forward, his attention seized. Upon seeing the fuzzy image of the Texan pulling the packet from his coat, he left the chair to stand an inch from the screen.

"_What ... that?"_ The French one asked.

What those blinking faces said now was irrelevant. The onlooker knew exactly what _that_ was. He created it, after all.

"There you are..." he ran a gloved hand over the screen as if caressing the photo of a long-missing loved one. "I'll have you back soon. Very soon." He chuckled harshly until the picture of the flickering nanoids on the screen faded to black.

. . .

"I say let 'em come. I'll tear their tin-can ass's outta their robot mouths!" Soldier was first to speak once Engineer had explained his findings to the rest of the former REDs upon their return to the hotel. Demoman looked at his friend with a stern eye, clearly grasping the severity of the situation more than his old colleague. "I got a bunch of human heads _and_ a bunch of robot heads at my place to prove that we made them dead," Soldier nodded. "_Permanently_."

"S'not as easy as that am'fraid. These robots don't _look_ like robots, they look just like us – they even _bleed_."

"Machines that have blood?" Heavy gave Medic a puzzled look and the doctor nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Vell, you see zhese machines started off as humans. Vhen zhe BLUs vere killed zhey vere made into robots – it is zhere brains being repowered by specially engineered nanoids zhat is reanimating zhem."

"It's like we're up against bloody robot-zombies!" Demo kicked an invisible irritation at his feet. He just wanted a regular job, with regular big explosions and regular insane teammates.

"All we need to know is how to _kill_ them." Heavy glanced down at his team. "Toymaker?"

"Right. Luckily we have _jus'_ that big guy, though I still needa lil' more time to-"

"Excuse me, sir." A ribald Latino woman approached them as they spoke in the dulling car park. She wore a cleaning uniform and smiled at Engie as she wrung her hands in a towel. "You are room 18?"

"I am."

"Uh huh, your wife is on the phone at reception."

"Ah, thank you kindly ma'am," he turned to his team "S'cuse me boys." With the enthusiasm of a puppy, Engie bounded towards reception with a smile. He hated not hearing Arleen's voice all day, it made him feel as if he was missing an essential tool for day to day life.

"S'a funny thing that." Demo watched him go with amusement. Amazed at how quickly the Texan had gone from serious to pleasant at the mention of his wife.

"Get back here short pants; we have battle tactics to plan!" Soldier shook his fist until Heavy laughed and gave his back a little _whack_.

"Let him go, there is no comfort like the voice of your woman, dah?" Having remained silent for the conversations entirety, the Spy slipped away unseen and unfollowed. Who knew how long Engineer would be on that phone for.

. . .

Scout came to by himself in his hotel room, bleary eyed as a dull ache throbbed in his stomach. His mind raced as he blinked white dots from his vision. _That's right_, he recalled being attacked. _Awh, jeez_. He sat up, trying to keep his face straight despite nobody being there to bear witness to his struggles. Having grown up with so many aggressive brothers he'd learned to act tough all the time – even when alone.

"C'mon, man!" he swore at his own legs as they numbly refused to move. Impatient despite his pain, he threw his legs off the side the bed, only to go tumbling down after them.

"_Aagh_!"

"As graceless as always," Spy opened the door just in time to see Scouts face meet the carpet. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Hey, _can_ it wise-ass. My legs're still asleep."

"And 'ere I was going to offer you a 'and." He sat smoothly in a chair and crossed his legs, bringing an unlit cigarette out to fiddle with as he grinned.

"Yeah? Well, you suck."

"_Mm_."

Scout struggled for five minutes, then ten minutes, tossing and turning and flopping about like a salmon on a boat until exhaustion pinned him down. He lay there panting until turning to pout at his company.

"What, ya jus' gonna sit there and stare like a freakin' chump or ya gonna help me?"

"Ask nicely."

"Screw you."

"Very well," Spy got to his feet. "I'll see you when you drag yourself-"

"Fiiiiine. Can ya pretty freakin' please help me off my ass an' stop being such a douche?"

"And that is as polite as 'e gets." He wrapped Scouts arm around his shoulder and hoisted him up, helping him gain his balance as the use of his legs slowly returned. It was no surprise that he found himself feeling far more protective of his own Scout than was required, given the boys resemblance to Nate. He even shared the same cheeky, uneven grin that Nate so often did.

"Hehey thanks. So like, what's happenin'? What I miss? Did-" Spy held up a hand.

"Allot 'as 'appened, you missed much excitement and yes – we killed the man who attacked you."

"Alright, alright, so uh, who was it?" He placed a hand on Scouts shoulder to ease him onto the bed before sighing.

"I'll start with what we 'ave just found..."

. . .

There was something strangely comforting about being in a warm, cosy room when the wind and rain raged on outside. The temperature had dropped dramatically after the sun had fallen, Demo could see his breath as he stepped outside to share a cigar with Soldier in the storm.

"Fer the last time Sol, the maid ain't stealin' yer medals."

"Shut your hole Cyclops I know a thief when I see one."

"Aye, an' ye stole near enough everythin' in your bloody room before ye even took yer coat off."

"I paid for them at the desk!"

"Ye paid fer yer room, ya daft bastard!"

"Hey lads, y'seen Engie?" Sniper flicked his hat up with a finger as he approached them. The bulky jacket that he wore, its hood rimmed with thick fur, dripped with rain.

"He's no in his room?"

"Nah. Though he was with you?"

"Non." Spy suddenly de-cloaked by Sniper, holding the key to Engies room. "And neither are the nanoids." All four men turned to stare at the number 18 painted on Engies hotel door. Lightning cracked through the sky and thunder grumbled below their feet. He'd left with the nanoids? Even Soldier didn't know what to say.

. . .

The darkness that shrouded the road did little to deter the Engineer as he raced the van down the dirt road at nearly a hundred miles an hour. Fear gripped him like a vice as he recalled the phone conversation he'd had with Arleen. He was soaked in rain water and sweat, trembling from both the cold and the unwavering fear that twisted in his gut.

"_R-Roy?"_

"_Arleen?"_

"_O-oh God, Roy-please-"_

"_Arleen? Wha-"_

"_Say another word and she dies."_ The voice was low, male. _"I'm going to give you instructions and you are going to follow them. Once you have them I am going to hang up and you are going to end this conversation with 'I love you too'. You will then return to your Hotel room – number 18 – and say nothing to your team about this. Do you understand?"_

"_...yes." _

"_Good. Now..."_

He'd never taken in information more thoroughly in his entire life than he had those instructions. He thought of Arleen, of how he'd promised her he would be safe. How she never answered his phone call yesterday. Of how terrified she'd just sounded down the line. He'd never once considered that _she_ wouldn't be safe at home, and he'd never _hated_ himself more than now as warm tears escaped his eyes, leaving burning streaks down his cheeks. He looked at his watch; 00:31 hours.

"_If you fail to arrive at the agreed location for 01:00 hours, I'm going to gut your wife like a fish."_

And then the line had gone dead.

_. . ._


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

. . .

Royston Parnell arrived at 00:54.

He walked along a deep underground hallway as dark as a mine-pit. In his gloved hand he held a flashlight that shook violently in his grasp. In his other hand he should have held a gun, but he'd been instructed to come unarmed. Instructions he _had_ to follow. Straight ahead was an old freight elevator that stood open, both inviting and repellin.

_Is my wife dead?_

He could feel warm bile rising in his throat. He glanced down at his watch as he stepped out of the humming elevator; 00:55. He was five minutes early. _She is still alive_. He shuddered as a cold sweat broke out anew and unwelcomed images of his wife invaded his mind, images of her lying in a pool of red. He entered through large, double doors and found himself face to face with his old counterpart – the BLU Engineer.

"Howdy."

"You ...!?"

"Nah, y'all be lookin' for the Boss man." The former BLU cocked his head – and his gun – towards a nearby door. "This way." Despite having been on competing teams, Roy had a lot of respect for his old rival and had always respected the man's genius. To see him as he was now, wires and bolts protruding from his flesh like some hideous robotic voodoo doll – he pitied him. He followed silently through the iron door and found himself gazing at his wife, who stood trembling but very much alive at the far end. "Arleen!"

"_Hold it_." the BLU Engineer held up his gun, but the voice that spoke had not belonged to him. Chunky boots clapped on smooth tiles as a figure appeared from behind Arleen, stopping to rest a big, warning hand on her shoulder.

"I'd stay put if I were you _Roy_. You can't be too careful, now." The man's face twisted into a cruel smile as he looked between Roy and his wife, whose arms were tied behind her back. A swelling bruise inflamed her left cheek and her eyes were bright red from crying.

"I've brought them jus-" Engie swallowed as he brought out the nanoids. "Jus' don't hurt my wife, I'll – I'll do _anythin'_ you want jus' let her go-"

"If _only_ life was that simple." The man was ugly in a subtle way. His skin clung tightly to his bony face and his lips looked redder than they should have done, compared to his sand-paper complexion. He leered at Roy with the hostility of a rabid wolf. "So good to finally meet you; the RED Engineer himself." He patted Arleen gently.

"R-Roy?"

"Shh shh." The man hushed her as she sobbed. "I've told your wife here _all_ about you. About your team. About your job. How you _killed_ on a daily basis."

"Roy, please-"

"I don't think she believes me though." His deep voice drowned out Arleen's weaker one. "So why don't you be a good sport and just be _honest_ with her, hm?" Engie couldn't peel his eyes from his wife as she shook like a leaf in a storm. "_Go on_." The man insisted.

"I ... I worked for a company known as RED. I killed for them. I-I killed _a lot_ for them..." Arleen began to weep under the man's grasp as Roy stood, shame burning on his face as he found himself having no idea what to do. "I'm so sorry Arle-"

"Yes, you did." The man nodded, satisfied at the fear now in the former REDs eyes. "Tell you what. There _is_ something you have of mine that I want back. Give me it and the lady can go."

"A_nything_ you want, please jus-"

The man held up his arm – or the stump that was once a full functioning limb."_I want my hand_." Engineer stared at him momentarily confused but the man read his thoughts like book. "Oh yes you _built_ it – good for you, you did your goddamn _job_. But who do you think _designed_ it, huh? Who do you think slaved over all those designs and plans for a _decade_ only to have that Mann bastard steal everything, huh!? _Me_. _I_ did!" he looked ready to self-combust with rage. "And _you_! You'd be _nothing_ without me! Every time your precious gunslinger's ever saved you – you've owe it to me!" Roy was confused, but he cleared his head and tried to put the pieces together.

"...You're 'C' ... you're ... a Conagher...?"

"_No_." He spat. "I am not a _Conagher_ – Grey claimed my initials to be his after he tried and _failed_ to get rid of me. You and your BLU counterpart have no _idea_ how much _my_ work has aided you. Yet, you have no idea who I am. Do you?" That BLU counterpart stood just behind Roy, robotic eyes dead to the conversation.

"No."

"No, and you'll not live long enough to find out. Know that even the 'great' Radigan Conagher was in awe of _my_ work. Even Gray saw me as a threat." Roy was still focused on Arleen who quivered under her captors rage but he needed time to think and so spoke regardless of his crippling fear.

"So y'all sent the BLU Scout after us then?"

"For the nanoids– but you've saved me that hassle yourself, haven't you?"

"You want them ... so you can destroy them?"

"Very good. Nothing will be able to stop my fully completed HU-BOTs. Not even _you_."

"You let my wife go and I'll give you the gunslinger and _anythin'_ else you want."

"Oh, Royston. You say that as if you have any _choice_."

_BANG_

"_NO_!" Arleens cry encompassed everything. That one, long note of raw grief and anguish echoed off the walls of the base. Her bound hands trembled and she closed her eyes, unable to bare the sight. Her husband stood frozen for a moment, staring unblinking at her until he fell to his knees and then on his back.

Blood began pumping from the bullet wound. "_Aagh_..."

Arleen burst free of the man's hand, though he didn't try to stop her, collapsing onto her husband in panicked pleading. Sobs shook her violently as tears flowed down her cheeks and fell onto his face.

"_Roy_!" she cried into his chest as his eyes flickered opened and closed. He breathing rattled. She sagged down into him, pressing her face into him and shaking her head as dry sobs choked her. He stopped moving.

. . .

"'is R.I number 'as pinned 'im for right ahead." Spy sat tense in the passenger seat of Snipers van, for once not complaining about the Australians barely-legal driving. In the back was Soldier and Demo who were assembling their own, much bigger guns than those weeny pistols. God Spy hoped the pair of them still knew how to use guns as big as theirs.

Medics van sped alongside Snipers with Heavy and Scout beside him in the front. For once even Scout was quiet, his mind racing faster than the speeding van as he considered that Engie had taken off with the nanoids. His gut told him that Engie was in big trouble. But _how_?

"No not worry," said Heavy "leetle Toymaker will be fine. He will have us soon."

"Yeah." Scout nodded, but remained quiet. "Yeah…"

. . .

"I'll be taking that." The man leaned over Arleen and tore the gunslinger clear from her husband's arm, splattering blood over her plump face. In her desperate struggles to hold her husband she'd managed to loosen and free her hands from the ropes.

"You animal!" She lunged at him, pummelling her small fists into his chest frantically as she wept.

"Take her away, I'll find some use for her corpse later." The Hubot Engineer complied, easily dragging Arleen from his master and pulling her away into another room.

"Mr Calvert."

"_What_?"

"Two vans are approaching from the west." Hubot Sniper called down from his ledge, having been peering down his scope.

"_Of course_ they are. All of you, go take care of them." He grinned down at the Engineer as blood pumped from his stump and stomach. "They say you are the ones who finally beat Gray. Well then, lets see if you have what it takes to beat _me_."

. . .

They were met with a hail of bullets. Taking cover behind his van, Sniper readied his rifle.

"Oi, the van wasn't cheap y'know!"

"Wait for my signal." Spy activated his cloak and snuck into the base as the others took cover. When the gunfire ceased, the teams burst into the base.

"Spy!?"

"Here." He appeared, cigarette on his lips. "I will go and find the labourer, hold them off." He gestured to the rumbling sounds of feet approaching from behind a nearby door.

"Gotacha, now go, go , go!"

_BAM_

"Whit is that?" The very ground beneath their feet shook as if a stampede was approaching. In the distance they could make out a hulking shadow, towering over them by about a foot. In it's hands was clutched a mighty mini-gun.

"I'll be damned." Soldier swore as he tilted his helmet up for a better look. The Hubotic Heavy was enormous, in fact he seemed even bigger than the BLU had ever been while human. The thing scowled at them as the nozzle of the machine gun began to spin.

"Oh fu-"

"Take cover!"

The team scrambled as the mini-gun caused sparks to encase their vision.

As the Spy listened to the chaos behind him he found himself genuinely wondering if his team would be alright. He had to push such thoughts away for now, he had a mission at hand. He ran down a dark hallway when suddenly he became very aware that someone was shadowing him. He turned and shot his revolver but his stalkers dodged it with inhuman speed.

It was the BLU Spy. The entire right side of his face was encased in metal, leaving one glowing red eye to stare back at him completely void of emotion. While the rest of the BLUs looked meticulously human, Calvert had went to great lengths to keep the BLU Spy crudely robotic looking. Punishment for his escape, no doubt. In the blink of an eye the Spy disappeared from sight in an all too familiar hiss.

"You gotta be kidding me ... the BLU Spy cant still go invisib-" Scout appeared and just managed to hop out of harm's way as the Blu brought his knife down, tearing into Scouts shirt. "Sonofabitch!"

"Scout-!? What are you doing here!?" Spy snapped.

"What's it look like, I'm comin' with ya!"

"_Damn_ it boy-!"

"Hey, no time to argue Frenchie, we got a problem here!" The BLU Spys metallic hand appeared from nowhere and sliced through Scouts hat. The RED Spy ran forward and kicked the Hubot away from him.

"Go." He stood between Scout and the BLU, his face stony. "Go and find the Engineer, I'll take care of this." Scout nodded before sprinting off. Oil leaked down the BLUs face like black tears and he jerked as if every movement caused him agony.

"Come Francois, it is time for you to sleep." At his words both Spies lifted their knives and vanished from sight under the shimmering cloak of their device.

As Scout sprinted down the halls away from the sound of clanging steel, his ears detected the sound of a woman crying. For whatever reason, he recalled the Engineer telling him on a road trip one time that he had a wife. The Bostonians heart sank down into his stomach.

_Ya better be alright hardhat._

At that moment, Scout couldn't recall a time in his life where he'd ran faster.

_. . ._

_Sorry for the delay and the shorter chapter. I had actually finished this story and was posting it on a weekly bases but my laptop broke and I lost everything so I'm sure you can understand my dismay at needing to type it all up again. Hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless!_


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